Abducted
by Zelda Zonkk
Summary: You stole me away from everything that I knew. Everything that I loved. You asked me to murder for you and die for you, because you would do the same for me. And somehow, you expected me to love you, too. Joker/OC.
1. Prologue The Joker Plays a Trick

**A/N: **_Hi guys! Well, this is my first Joker story, and it's set during the entire events of the Dark Knight. :) I just love the Joker in that movie, so I thought I'd mix it up a little. I was inspired by a book called __**Stolen**__, written by __**Lucy Christopher **__in letter format to her captor. It's fictional, but it really is one of the most amazing books I have ever read in my life. And so I thought I'd make a story like that for the Joker, written by a girl he has taken in order to work out his plan. :) I just wanted to tell you in case you're confused as to the 'you' format. 'You' being the Joker in this particular story :) If you like this story, please let me know! Because I'm considering changing it to the regular story instead of letter format. I think this puts you in the Joker's shoes though, so I'll give it a go! :)_

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_**Prologue **_

_**The Joker Plays A Trick**_

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It was your eyes that drew me in first; not the vivid red scars or the twisted smile. Even in such a small café, your face was everywhere. You were on the newspapers that had been left abandoned on another table, and now you were on the tiny television nestled in the corner of the room. I sat alone, at a table lined against a wall. Mr Roberts, the bank manager, had been in a foul mood for the entire day. Quite frankly, I was just happy to have my lunch break to be away from him even if it was just for an hour. Only a month working there and already I wanted to quit. The news-reporter, a woman who barely looked any older than me and had more cleavage on display than I cared to mention, asked a very simple question, _"When will this monster be caught?"_ as a picture of your beaming, happy face popped up on the camera, clearly taken from CCTV footage.

The small waitress, who wore a name-tag that read, '_Hello, I'm ASHLEY, how may I help you?_', standing behind the counter snorted and rolled her eyes. "When pigs fly, sweetheart," she muttered, flicking through a magazine. She chewed on the end of a straw, barely even glancing at the pages before she turned them. She hummed softly to herself, pausing on one particular picture that caught her eye. It was Batman. In large, blood red letters was the question, '_Who __**is**__ Batman?_' I only wish I knew. Maybe if I had, I could have ran from that café and searched the city for him, begging him to save me from _you_. If only. The café hummed with noise, and the excruciatingly loud sound of a baby shrieking in its high-chair. The mother, a woman who couldn't been more than twenty-five, looked fit to leap from a fifty-floor-high building. Her blonde hair was frizzed and scraped into a low-key ponytail as she desperately tried to make her baby eat some disgusting, pale mush that I assume was supposed to be food. I don't blame him for throwing a tantrum when he was handed gross stuff like that.

A couple were arguing in the corner on the other side of the room. In front of them was a family, who just so happened to be arguing too. The brother and sister, only ten years old, fought over their toys, while the parents fought over their children fighting. What a crazy world we live in. I barely even took notice of the teenagers giggling near the front of the room, or the old man reading a withered book that had a broken spine and looked a little worse for wear. I had been mindlessly doodling on my napkin, using a pen I had borrowed from work – it read _Gotham's National Bank – Always Here to Help _on the side in a black, bold font.

It was no surprise that I didn't notice the shabby, scruffy hobo-like man with a baseball cap covering most of his face until he sat in front of me. I didn't think much of it. After all, it was the only seat left in the café. He didn't bother me, either. Just pulled out a newspaper and began reading the front page. He held it in front of him, obscuring my view. Ashley, the young waitress, came bustling to our table. She took out a notepad and beamed at the man sitting across from me. "What can I get you, sir?" Without looking up or even moving his newspaper to show his face, he replied, "One coffee." His voice was low and gruff. Ashley turned to face me, her name-tag gleaming in the light.

"And you ma'am? You want a refill?"

"Yes, please," I smiled. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down. I cast curious glances at the stranger sitting in front of me. His long coat was shabby, one of its pockets half torn off. His baseball cap was blank and grey, successfully hiding his face from view. Sighing, I decided to watch the couple fighting across the room, seeing as this stranger didn't look as if he planned on chatting any time soon. Once again, Ashley returned with our orders and the man didn't even acknowledge her. He turned a page of his newspaper. I read the front page to myself. Of course, your face was plastered all over it. The headline read, '_THE JOKER CREATES CHAOS – BUT BATMAN HAS THE LAST LAUGH'. _A heroic tale of Batman defeating you. Having your black eyes staring at me from that newspaper unnerved me. They seemed so…_deep_. Like you were full of secrets I wanted to know.

I was so busy reading that newspaper the man held up in front of him that I managed to slosh my coffee onto my white blouse. Oh, crap. Mr Roberts would go insane if I turned up at the bank with a giant stain on my clothes. He would call it '_unprofessional_'. The joys of work. Muttering angrily to myself, I stood and went to grab some napkins. It must have been then, when no one was watching. You know what I mean, of course. When I returned to my seat, I didn't suspect a thing. I was far more worried about what Mr Roberts would say. I drank my coffee, fretting about my job and wishing I could just travel like I always wanted to. The man in front of me cleared his throat quietly, putting his newspaper down and keeping his head down.

I wished he would simply look up. It was as if he were hiding from everyone. Maybe he was shy. I rubbed my eyes, my vision blurring slightly as I watched him. My chest begin to burn, my head beginning to feel as if it were filled with cotton. My voice didn't quite seem to work. The noise in the café became blurred, as if my head were underwater. I couldn't even cough to try and rid myself of the burning feeling in my chest.

"Oh dear, you aren't looking very good, Ruby," a voice whispered.

I glanced up at the man across from me, who was showing his face. I knew those eyes anywhere. The eyes so dark I could see myself in them. I didn't need to see the scars to know it was you. You weren't wearing your make-up, like you did in all the photos and videos I had ever seen of you in the media. I tried to push myself away from you, to call out for help and let the other customers know that you, the Joker, were sitting right here in front of me, drinking coffee as if nothing were wrong. Only, I couldn't. My mouth opened and total babble came out, words that made no sense. I wasn't even sure of where I was anymore. I felt your hand latch onto my wrist as you stood me up. I had to lean against you, stumbling slightly. You threw a few dollars to Ashley, though her face was far too blurry in my mind to make out.

Why didn't anyone notice us? A woman in a nice, attractive business suit being half-carried by a scruffy guy in a baseball cap? I doubt anyone even cared. The mother was too distracted and tormented with looking after a new-born baby. The old man too busy reading his withered book. The couple too engrossed in their fight to realize anyone else in the café. The family beside them being the exact same. Too far into their own world to see that the Joker was hiding amongst them, not knowing you had taken me right in front of them. You lugged me along without much care or grace, I remember that much.

I can't remember much. We turned a corner, away from the warmth of the café. A man in a clown mask. Asking, "_Is this the girl, boss?_". Being in a van, giggling madly to myself. Totally unaware of the danger I was in all because you had successfully slipped a drug into my drink while I went to find some napkins. I remember your voice most of all, from that blurry trip in the van. The cold ground, your mad laughter as we veered violently around a corner. I smashed into you. I gripped your shabby jacket, and you laughed even more.

"Poor little Ruby Red, the drugs are messing with her head!" you sang like it were a children's rhyme, pushing me away and climbing into the front seat. Dimly I remembered the van stopping, being pulled out by one of your henchmen, who grabbed me by my hair instead of my arm. A door slammed open, but my head was still filled with that fluffy cotton. Everything in my mind was fuzzy, like I was watching it from far away. I heard your insane laughter as I was dragged inside a dark room, flung unceremoniously onto the hard concrete floor. I don't know how long I lay there. Like I said, it's blurry. Your laughter had vanished. My ribs hurt from where you had dragged me to the van.

For some insane reason, I wondered where my pen was. That's what the drugs did to me, I suppose. I was thinking of my stupid pen that I had left behind in the café. Surely that Ashley waitress would find it? Though I doubt she would think I had lost it merely because the Joker had kidnapped me. She would just assume I had dropped it, or forgotten it. She wouldn't give it a second thought. You had taken me during the day. With people going about their boring, ordinary lives all around us. How could you do that, without anyone even batting an eyelash? They called you intelligent and sneaky, but it wasn't until that moment as I lay on the cold ground that I realized just how right they were.

Of course, I wondered what it was that you wanted. I was simply Ruby Reddington. You had already known my name when you took me. This wasn't some random thing. You had planned this. I don't know how long I lay there, or if any time had passed at all since we arrived, but the door to my room flung open. And there you were. You had lost the baseball cap and the shabby clothes. Instead, you were in a brilliant suit with bright colours burned my tender eyes. My tummy felt nauseous. I couldn't even stand up. I remember shaking, trying to push myself away you. You stood with your arms wide open, as if expecting me to hug you somehow. Your make-up was on, the bright red smile and the black eyes peering down at me. You clapped your hands together suddenly. To my drugged up brain, the sound seemed to echo for hours, making the ground vibrate.

Whatever you had given me, it had worked perfectly. My thoughts blended together like the mush that woman had tried to serve her baby in the café. I could barely remember my own name when you said it.

"Ruby, my sweet Ruby," you barked loudly. "Finally, we meet!"

Your voice wormed its way to me, making me shiver. _Finally_? How long had you been planning this?

You knew I couldn't speak. You knew I couldn't do anything at all, not with that stuff floating through my veins.

"What's the matter, Ruby? Cat got your tongue!" you mocked, jumping up dramatically and yanking at your own tongue as if trying to pull it out. My bewildered eyes followed your every movement, terrified. Your face blurred for a moment. My vision went black. It couldn't have lasted for very long, because when I opened them again, you were kneeling in front of me. I remember the intensity of your gaze as you stared into my eyes. "Ruuuuby? Do you know why you're here?"

I shook my head wildly, feeling as if the ground was slowly opening up to swallow me whole. At that moment, I wished it would have.

You laughed madly, doubling over and putting your hands on your knees. "Because, my little Ruby Red, you have something I need. And I'm gonna get it whether you like it or not! Now, now, don't look so frightened! We're gonna have a _blast_, I promise!"


	2. The Bad Beginning

**A/N: **_Thanks for all the reviews, alerts and stuff guys :) I really appreciate it! :) I couldn't reply to those who didn't have an account, so I'll thank you for the reviews right here! _

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_**Chapter Two **_

_**The Bad Beginning**_

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I don't know if you dream or not. I've never even seen you sleep. You just don't seem human sometimes. I have to remind myself that we are made of the same things, Joker. We both have a heart – whether yours actually feels anything or not, I don't know– and we both were made of fragile flesh and blood. You were damaged, which made me wonder if you could do anything normally at all. On the very first morning I woke up in that warehouse, I had awoken from what I had thought was a nightmare. I dreamt that you, the Joker of all people, had kidnapped me from a small, popular café. I had dreamt that you had taken me and didn't plan on giving me back. Or at least, I thought it was an awful dream made up in my mind until I looked up and saw your cold black eyes staring back at me, a permanent smile etched on your painted white face, a knife gleaming in your hands. It wasn't a dream. It was all horribly, _horribly_ real.

I was sitting on a wooden chair, my hands tied behind my back. It reminded me of those movies, with the bright light shining down on the person who was being interrogated. Your eyes lit up when you realized I was awake. How long had you been sitting there, watching me? My head felt as if it had been smashed against a wall a million times. I was still in my work clothes, the coffee stain on my chest. Could this really be happening to me?

"_Gooood _morning, Ruby Red!" you exclaimed loudly. My ears rang with the sound of your voice, echoing throughout my brain. When I said nothing, you cocked your head to left, like a confused puppy. "What's the matter, _sweetheart_? You're lookin' a little peaky. Still feeling ill, huh?"

I nodded numbly, not trusting my voice. I didn't want that incoherent babble to come out like it did in the café. That terrified me, not being able to even cry out for help. Being completely mute.

"What a shame, you have such a beautiful voice. So soft and…_soothing_," you grinned, twisting the knife around in your hands. You closed one eye, holding the knife up, pretending to hold it against my neck. You sighed wistfully, putting it down again. "I had to use the drugs. Either that, or this." You held the knife to your own throat this time, pretending to slit your own throat, smiling brightly while you did so. . "A cut deep enough to take out your voice but not kill you. You think I could do it? Takes a lot of skill, you know."

Again, I said nothing. This angered you. You stood up abruptly, flinging the chair over and storming up to me. You gripped my chin, forcing me to meet your eyes. "Aren't you going to say anything? Look at what I've done for you!"

You shoved my face away, winding me. Your breathing was ragged, deliberate and slow. As if you were counting numbers in your head to calm yourself down, something my dad used to do a lot. "W-Why am I here?" Even if I stuttered, I was glad to be able to speak again. My words weren't just babbled mush. I hoped it meant the drugs you had given me had left my system for good. Using the knife, you caressed my cheek, dropping to my jawline.

"Don't you remember me Ruby?"

I'm pretty sure I'd remember someone with scars and make-up like yours.

My heart was pumping a mile a minute, my chest rising and falling. I craned my neck away from you, not wanting to cut myself on the knife you held against me. You were watching me strangely, as if you were confused again and couldn't figure anything out. You smiled suddenly, jumping away from me dramatically and picking up your chair. You pulled it over to me, sitting on it. Yours knees were touching mine as you leaned forward, breathing heavily.

"Of course you don't. But that's okay. We'll get to know each other soon enough," you said earnestly, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. "You might not know me Ruby, but I know you. I've been watching you for a long time now."

We weren't alone. I knew that when I heard laughter. My eyes darted to the giant, metal door across the room. You followed my gaze, but said nothing. Those were your henchmen laughing, as I would later find out. Just sitting out there, waiting for your orders. The room was bare, except for a mattress on the floor. We didn't even have a window. You licked your lips when you looked at me again, more serious than before. "You used to love clowns."

I blinked in surprise. I hadn't expected you to say anything like that. "What?"

You ran your tongue along your teeth, scrutinising me. "You went to a circus for your tenth birthday. Your favourite act was the clown."

I felt my heart drop. "H-How…How do you know that?"

"I told you. I know you." You said it without laughing, without even showing any expression at all.

You leaned back in your seat, turning away from me, flicking the knife between your hands. You were deep in your own thoughts, and I took the opportunity to glance around some more. Empty room. One small vent that a cat could barely squeeze through. That single mattress lying in the corner. No escaping this place. Not unless I could get past you and your henchmen simply by walking through the front door. If I stayed calm, and planned it all out, maybe I could figure a way out. Or die trying to, that is. You started laughing, taking me by surprise.

"I know Ruby!" you yelped, swinging around on your seat to face me. "What if I tell you we have something in common?"

"We do?" I whispered, unsure of what to say to you. You still had that knife in your hand.

"Your father wasn't much of a nice guy, like mine," you murmured, your eyes practically sparkling with malice. "He was in the military…he was too _serious_, wasn't he? Too strict and disciplined. He was no _FUN_. That's why you liked the clowns. They made you happy. Always laughing. Always _smiling_." You traced your scars with your knife slowly. "Like me!"

"How did you know that?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"I know a lot of things, Ruby Red. _A lot_."

Your serious demeanour vanished within the blink of an eye – I would never be entirely prepared for your mood swings. You stood up, grabbing my chin once again in a hard grip. It hurt, but I didn't cry out. I stared you right in the eye. You were smiling brightly, as if we were just messing around. You were taller than I expected you to be, too. You leaned very close to my face. I could feel your breath tickling me. Another reminder than you were somehow human beneath all that make-up.

"Enough of the old memories Ruby, we've got work to do! You see, I got this problem that I need your help with, alright?" you grinned, licking your lips and nodding at me.

"What if I said no?" I asked stupidly.

"That's my Ruby," you laughed loudly. "Sweet" – you punched my stomach unexpectedly – "little" – another punch – "_Ruby_." One more punch. "You don't _get _to say no. Besides it'll be _fun_. You like fun, don't you?"

You had punched me so hard I found it difficult to catch my breath again. I coughed and spluttered, doubled over. I was quite tired of you grabbing my chin when you did it again, forcing me to look up at you. I coughed, desperately trying to take in some air. My heart was thudding so loudly I was certain you could hear it.

"I had a plan – I was going to _borrow _some money from Gotham National Bank. Everything was planned out. I had everything ready, but then, something happens. Something that ruins everything I had planned. The codes change and the alarms change. Do you know how I felt when I found that out, Ruby? Hm? I'll tell ya, I felt _angry_," you growled, shaking me by my shoulders. "I don't have enough time to figure out those codes for myself. I was furious. But then, like the angel that you are, you start working at that very bank. You see, it was meant to be Ruby! You and I, we were meant to do this!"

I wasn't sure what to say to that. _You're insane. You need help. Please let me go. _Those options didn't seem very helpful in my eyes. After all, if I said any of that, you'd lose your temper again. I realized a problem very quickly – they had changed the codes only a week before you took me. Meaning even _I _didn't know them yet. I hadn't been to the vaults, I had simply been working with Mr Roberts filing and sorting out papers. I hadn't even _asked _to know them, though Mr Roberts would tell me without much difficulty if he thought I needed to go into the vaults. Kathy, a woman who worked with me, told me that there were rumours that the mafia owned that money. You really were off your rocker, taking the mafia's money.

"I-I don't know the codes," I said.

Your smile dropped slowly. "Don't lie to me Ruby."

"I'm not lying! You know that those codes only changed a week ago," I pleaded honestly.

You chewed on your lower lip, considering this. You trailed the knife along my jawline absentmindedly. "You realize it would be very…_bad _for you, if I found out you weren't telling the truth, Ruby Red…" I had no idea why you kept calling me this, sorting my surname. You seemed to like it a lot. "I'd have to punish you if it turned out you were trying to get away from me. You understand this, don't you?"

I nodded gently, trying to avoid cutting myself on that knife. You took me by my collar, yanking me to you. Our noses touched we were so close.

"I have a new plan, sweethear_t_. You're gonna get the codes that open that doors that lead to that vault."

"W-What about the vault itself?" I whispered nervously.

"Oh, don't you worry, I have a friend who can take care of tha_t_," you grinned, putting emphasis on the 't'.

The henchmen, of course. I should have expected that at least one of them had experience in bank robberies. I knew nothing about our new alarm system, only that it rang to a private number. I couldn't think of who it could possibly ring to. You were still so close to me. My stomach ached from where you had punched me. "Will you let me go?" I asked quietly, bracing myself for another hit. You took me by surprise, laughing manically again, slapping your thigh as if it were the funniest thing you had ever heard. You pushed yourself away from me, walked across the room and opened the door. You turned to face me, still laughing. You wiped an imaginary tear – at least, I assume it was fake, but with black make-up it's hard to tell.

"Normally, I just kill whoever I take when I'm finished with them," you said, as if we spoke of something as normal as the weather.

My breath hitched. You threw your knife high into the air and caught it by its hilt with ease. You pointed it at me.

"But you, Ruby, you're special. _Different_. And yet we're the same. You're just like me. Only you don't see it yet. But don't worry. You will someday."

With that, you strode out of the room. I could hear your laughter echoing all the way down the halls.

I was alone again.


	3. The Ticking Timebomb

**A/N: **_I know the Joker never says this story about his scars in the movie, he uses two entirely different stories. But I had to make it up, to put a bit of Ruby's backstory in. So enjoy! :) Thanks for the reviews and everything, I love you guys!_

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**Chapter Three**

**_The Ticking Time-bomb_**

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The gun pressed against the very centre of my forehead. A man in a clown mask peered down at me, cocking his head to the left as he watched me. I didn't know where you were. I didn't _want _to know, either. I was silently hoping that the Batman had somehow found you and was on his way to find me, too. The man introduced himself as Happy. Happy wore shabby clothes and talked quickly, almost babbling. He told me that I was going to have to stand up and undress myself. My heart dropped to my stomach. I thought he was going to…well, you know. I'd read a lot of stories about rapists roaming the streets of Gotham. To make things worse, another clown strolled into the room and put a large black box on the floor, holding a gun in his hands just like Happy. It seemed you had an endless supply of weapons. This man told me his name was Dopey and that it was a 'joy' to finally meet me. There it was again, that word '_finally_'. How long had you been planning to take me, Joker? Dopey told me the same as Happy. Stand up, take my shirt off. And don't make a move either, or he'd 'blow my pretty head clean off'. What charming henchmen you hired.

I hesitated as Happy undid my cuffs. He gave me a shove to stand up. I did as he asked. They waited, staring at me. Happy still had the gun aimed at me. I'm not sure what he thought I would do. Two men, holding guns? Did he think I was like Batman and could somehow beat both of them without even breaking a sweat? Hardly. I felt tears burning at my eyes. I didn't want to undress in front of these strangers. It was utterly humiliating. Happy said, "You can leave the bra on. The bomb won't touch it."

"Bomb?" I asked, eyes wide. I was only in my bra, and I tried to cover myself, probably failing.

"That's right, Ruby Red," a smooth voice answered. It was you, standing at the doorway, watching us. "I need some leverage with you going back into that bank. You'll wear a bug hidden in your clothes so I can hear everything. We wouldn't want you telling anyone that I've been keeping you here now, would we? That might get us into a little…_trouble_. We wouldn't want that. Not. At. _All_."

"I wouldn't tell," I said defiantly.

When you laughed, your henchmen laughed too. Only, their laughter was nervous, as if they only wanted to please you. "Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. In time, you'll learn to trust me. But for now, you're gonna do as I say, alright?" You marched over to me, a wicked smile on your white face. You picked up the large black box that lay beside Dopey's feet. I noticed Dopey almost flinched when you got so close to him, though you took no notice. You pulled out something similar to a harness, only smaller. It had a small black electronic box in the middle with a red light. You held it up to me to show me that red light.

"If I think that you are even _trying _to uh, tell any of your…_work buddies_ what I'm going to do, I will click a button, this light will turn green and _BOOM_." Three of us – Happy, Dopey and I – jumped in surprise when you clapped your hands together loudly. "No more bank. No more little customers. No more beautiful Ruby."

A bomb. I should have known you wouldn't just let me walk back into that bank without some kind of threat hanging over me. That small box could kill me with one single click. My hands were shaking as you approached me. Do you know how awful and humiliating it felt to be standing there in front of you with only a bra on, Joker? Do you know how much I _despised _you at that very moment? I wanted to punch you, hit you, scream at you. Instead I stood still as you put the harness around me – being extra careful to caress my skin – and fastened it at the back. I was a walking, talking bomb. My heart was thudding. Every movement made the harness itch against my skin. You leaned your head on my shoulder, putting your hands on my waist. My skin crawled. I hated you.

"I saved you on a Friday," you murmured as Happy and Dopey took the box out of the room. You called it '_saving me_'. I called it kidnapping and destroying my life. But whatever. "Today is Monday. A brand new day. If anyone asks why you weren't at work Friday afternoon, you _lie_. Tell them it was a family emergency. Someone died. Anything at all. You got tha_t_?"

I nodded my head, and you spun me around harshly.

"YOU GOT THAT?" you roared, making me flinch. I let out a dry sob as your nails dug into my skin. You paused, apparently realizing. Then, surprising me as you always did, you hugged me. It wasn't a warm hug like I shared with my granny when I was a kid. It was like you had never really hugged anyone before. You smelled my hair deeply, chuckling to yourself. "Don't look so sad, Ruby. I'm just trying to put a smile on your face. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You pushed me away suddenly. You paced the room, thinking to yourself. I took the opportunity to quickly put my blouse on. You said nothing, thankfully. Only continued your frenzied pacing. I could feel this bomb strapped to a harness with every move I made. You stopped your pacing, strolling towards me. You stopped right in front of me, smiling. You started playing with my hair, fixing it. "Give me a smile, Ruby. Show me how you are going to look at those people in the ban_k-ah_," you demanded, clicking your tongue at the end. "Remember, your life depends on it. One little mistake and…_BOOM!"_

You laughed manically, forcing the corners of my mouth up.

"Such a _pretty _smile. What's the matter, Ruby? Do my scars…_unnerve _you?" you whispered, leaning close to me. You were so close that you could kiss me. I straightened up, attempting to pull away from you, but you wouldn't let me – your hand wrapped around the back of my neck, yanking me closer. "I was bullied, when I was a child, Ruby. Just. Like. _You_. Because you had to move around a lot, didn't you? Daddy was in the military, you had to change schools a lot, and no one likes the new kid. I understand. You and I, we're in the same boat-_ah_. Kids would pick on me, too. And one day, some bullies beat me up real bad. I come home to my father, crying my little eyes out. He doesn't like that. He thinks it's _weak_. He beats me just like the bullies did. He says I shouldn't cry about it. He says that he's gonna teach me what it is to be a man. And that I should _smile. _Look on the bright side. And so he grabs a razor. He walks up to me real slow, laughing. And he does _this_."

You traced your scars slowly like you did on the first morning I met you. I couldn't imagine you as a child. All I could see was a miniature version of you, still wearing the purple suit and the make-up. I felt my breath speeding up as you pulled me even closer, pushing yourself against me. You knew about me moving around a lot when I was young. You knew about me being picked on for it. I didn't know whether to believe your story about your scars. You weren't smiling anymore though. You were completely serious. When I looked into your eyes, I really couldn't tell if you were lying.

"You'll be happy too, Ruby," you murmured. "You'll see."

"You're willing to kill me, though," I whispered. "After all, there is a bomb on me, Joker."

You considered this. "You don't know what it's like to have _fun_ Ruby. To let go of those fears of yours. You could die tomorrow. Or you could die right now." You whipped a knife out of your pocket, holding it to my throat. I gasped without meaning to, out of surprise and fear. You chuckled deeply. "You see? Too much _fear_. You need to lighten up. And hey, if the bomb goes off, then at least everyone will know we really did have a _blast_, just like I said we would!"

You shook me by my shoulders, bursting into that manic laughter of yours. You slapped my cheeks gently, almost playfully. "You get it? _Blast_? Because you might just blow up! Ha-ha!"

Although I didn't find my possibly impending doom particularly funny at that moment, I cracked a tense smile to please you, seeing as your mood swings terrified me.

"They'll think you were in on it, you know," you said, letting out a wild giggle at the end, your smile widening.

"What?"

"Think about it Ruby. You're smart, we both know that. A young girl gets a job at a bank. She turns up, does her job. Then, one month after she joins, there's a robbery. The robbers know all the codes, which helps to speed up their crime and help them get away faster. The one worker who mysteriously vanishes after all this money is taken?" you explained. You winked. "That's right Ruby. _You_. The little girl who only started working there a month before the robbery. They can put two and two together."

I stared at you in horror. "No…No, they wouldn't think that! They'll know you took me! Someone would notice!"

"Who? Your parents aren't around, unless they can call the cops from beyond the grave. Your sisters don't call, do they? Too busy with their own meaningless, useless lives to even make sure you're _alive _every once in a while," you snarled, storming up to me. I held my breath, waiting for you to do something. Hit me. Yell at me. I don't know. "They don't _care_, don't you get it? Not like I do."

"You don't care," I whispered. "If you cared about me you wouldn't strap a bomb to my chest and make me do this."

Once again, you grabbed my chin to make me look into your eyes. It's strange I didn't have bruises there from all the times you had gripped me. It wasn't a hard grip though, it was surprisingly soft. I met your black eyes, shivering slightly. They were pleading with me. I was reminded of a lost puppy all over again. You could always do that so perfectly, Joker. Change from a psychopath to a normal human if you tried hard enough. With a flash of that knife, you could kill me. And you chose not to.

"One day, you'll thank me. I'm showing you how to _live_. To live because you aren't afraid to die, Ruby."

With a bomb strapped to my chest, I kind of hoped you were right.


	4. Crazy World

**A/N: **_I wrote and re-wrote this chapter so many times, I just couldn't get it right. Finally got it, so I apologise for the late update! I'm excited to write the robbery scene, that should be fun ;)_

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**- Chapter Four – **

_Crazy World_

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The knife glistened in the light as you held it up, inspecting it. Your black eyes ran along the blade, twisting it and turning it. I sat on my mattress, pushing my back against the wall as if I could melt into it and hide forever. I thought you had forgotten I was even there until you took slow steps toward me. I held my breath, biting on my tongue, waiting. You sat on the mattress beside me, as closely as you could. My heart was thumping in my chest. The bomb was still strapped to my chest, the harness scratching against my skin. You stayed silent for a few moments, before you began whistling an aimless tune. You picked up my hand, running the hilt of the knife across it, still whistling. I wanted to yank my hand away, revolted by you. I waited for you to hit me or yell at me or threaten me. But you didn't. You were surprisingly gentle. I didn't put my guard down though, and you licked your lips slowly.

"You gotta trust me, Ruby."

When I said nothing, you sighed and nudged my arm.

"If I'm not mistaken-_ah_, you have a voice. Are you _afraid _of me?"

"Yes," I said nervously.

You shook your head, running a hand through your greasy hair. "See, that's the problem. Everyone is so _afraid _of everything!" you cried, shaking your hands dramatically in the air. You let them fall limply to your side, looking me in the eyes. "And you, well, I'm helping you to let go of that fear! Why can't you see that? I _care _about you, is that so hard to believe?"

"When you care about someone you don't hurt them," I whispered quietly, my tongue beginning to feel as if it was made of lead, feeling heavy in my mouth. It was hard to talk to you. To my surprise, you clapped your hands together, leaning forwards on your knees instead, putting your hands on my shoulders.

"There you go Ruby, speak your _mind_," you grinned. Your grin was vicious, like you were mocking me somehow. "That is what I like so much about you. What if I were to tell you that sometimes we have to hurt people in order to show them what the world is really like?"

I cleared my throat, and you squeezed my shoulders gently as if encouraging me. "I…I would say that I already know what the world is like."

"Not all of it. You know what your lousy excuse for parents showed you. That isn't everything. _I _can show you much more than that."

I'm not see I wanted to see it, to be honest. "What else do you know about my parents?" I asked, my eyes wide. "About my family?"

"I know your father was a fiend just like mine," you growled, clenching your fists. A small trickle of blood ran along your left fist, where you held the knife a little too tightly. "Your mother wouldn't fight back, would she Ruby? Oh no, he wasn't _violent_, he didn't need to be. She was scared of him anyway. I know he made your family move around a lot, not caring how it affected you or your sisters. He didn't care that you hated it. That you hated your life until the day you left them all behind. He didn't care that you were_ alone_."

I glared at you, furious that you knew as much as you did. You probably knew more. You were holding back. It was almost as if you were unable to feel pain, because the cut along your palm from where you squeezed the knife was bleeding even more. I felt the insane urge to bandage it for you, to make all that blood vanish. It trickled from your palm to your wrist, a bright red colour. You merely stared at it as if you couldn't remember ever hurting yourself in the first place. Then, your eyes lit up.

"Enough about that. We have a busy day today. You better listen closely, Ruby, because if you mess this up, well…"

You tapped the centre of my chest where you knew the bomb lay, grinning wickedly.

"_Boom_," you whispered.

I nodded, practically straining my ears.

"My, uh, _buddies _are gonna make sure that your boss is late for work. An hour late, to be precise-…"

"How?" I asked breathlessly, afraid to upset you with that knife still held in your hand. "You won't hurt him, will you?"

You pursed your lips, considering this. "No. That'd be too much trouble. If he were to die, there'd be a big fuss. The bank might even close for a day, if they didn't have a manager to run the place. That wouldn't help us at all. He'll live. For now."

I let out a deep sigh of relief, one I didn't know I was holding. I ignored the 'for now' bit at the end. The corner of your lips twitched as if you wanted to smile. You cleared your throat to keep your expression serious.

"You have an hour."

"To get the codes?" I asked disbelievingly. "How can-…"

"You don't have a choice," you snapped. "You have an hour, Ruby. That's more than enough."

I shut my mouth quickly. I wasn't going to take your non-violence for granted. I noticed that when you weren't in front of a crowd, when it was just us, you lost that act you always performed. You didn't put such emphasis on your words, you didn't click your _t_'s so much. You weren't putting on a show for anyone. It made me think of you as an actual person, especially with your strange habit of running your tongue along your scars when you were thinking deeply. You had certain mannerisms that fascinated me. I wanted to know more about you, even if you frightened me.

"You will go inside, you'll pretend that it's just a normal day and you're working hard like you always do. Once you get those codes, you go outside and you go the alleyway that is one block away, near the park. You know where that park is. You eat your lunch there sometimes. You remember it, don't you?"

Where did you get the time to follow me around? From what I'd read about you, you were always up to something. Unless you got your henchmen to follow me around. That sent shivers down my spine. They could have been anyway, blending into the crowd when they weren't wearing their clown masks. I could have spoken to Happy or Dopey without even realizing it. "Yes, I remember it."

"Good. I'll be waiting there for you. If you're late…" you trailed off, leaving the rest to my imagination. You were smiling, clicking your tongue against your teeth as if making a tune. "You know, people call me _crazy_ because I don't have any _rules_. I don't follow the law. I don't care if I die."

"Why?" I asked. "Aren't you afraid of anything?"

"I'm not as fucking stupid as the rest of Gotham, Ruby," you snapped, surprising me. I had never heard you curse before. I don't know why it surprised me. "I don't try to pretend that everything is – _ahem _- _dandy_ and that we're all one big happy family, thanks to the Bat! Everyone lies. Everyone pretends to be something they're not. I can see that. I know you can, too. Mostly, I know that everyone dies, eventually. Why not have a little fun in the meantime?"

* * *

Sometimes I think the world is just too damn busy to notice things. Men and women in their business suits, babbling on their phones and bustling past me without a second glance. A woman with her five-year-old standing a few feet away from me, telling him that he wouldn't get any ice-cream after his dinner if he kept having tantrums. A man telling his wife through the phone that they had some 'problems with the money' and that he would be home late. Not one of them looked at me, and if they did, they certainly didn't think I had a bomb beneath this blouse of mine. What a crazy world we live in.

I could see Kathy, her short blonde hair bobbing as she helped a man fill out an application form. He was a very large, rather beefy man with ruddy-red cheeks and a bowler hat. I made my way over to them, taking careful steps. I wondered if she would notice I was still in the suit I wore on Friday. She probably wouldn't think much of it even if she did. I put on my best smile, because I kept thinking you could see me somehow. Hey, with you, anything is possible. For all I know you were wearing a disguise, hiding someplace and watching this entire thing. You managed to fool me in the café, didn't you?

"Hey Kathy," I smiled as I went behind the counter, like I always did. I must say, I'm a pretty good actress. Kathy glanced at me, grinning widely.

"Hey Rubes! Thank God you're here, this place is so busy, Mr Roberts is late! Can you believe it? That guy has been working here almost his entire life and he's never once been late!" she exclaimed, before asking the man to sign his initials at the end of the form.

"He's late?" I asked in false surprise. I know now that you had one of your henchmen crash into his car, driving off and leaving Mr Roberts to deal with the mess.

"Mm," she murmured.

I glanced at the large clock on the wall behind us. I had forty-five minutes left. I put my bag down, sitting at my own desk. I had to sort out folders, pretending that nothing at all was wrong. My hands were shaking badly. A mere ten minutes had passed when Kathy finally finished with that man. He muttered something about how he had 'things to do' and didn't want to waste his 'entire day faffing about here'. Kathy stuck her tongue out at him as soon as his back was turned.

"That guy was just plain mean," she muttered, falling into her chair and rubbing the bridge of her nose tiredly. "What a jackass. All he did was _complain _for the best of an hour."

When she emphasised her words, I thought of you. I licked my lips, just like you always did, laughing softly. "You should be used to it by now Kathy, we deal with them everyday."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Hey, where were you on Friday?"

"My grandmother fell ill," I said automatically. "She's always had problems with her heart, but we had a nasty scare on Friday. I had to go and visit her. I told Mr Roberts. Didn't he say?"

Kathy seemed to be searching her brain. "No…I don't think he did. I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother Ruby, I hope she feels better."

I hated myself for lying. Kathy was smiling sympathetically. "Thanks, Kat. That's sweet of you."

Well, now was as good a time as any. A new customer – the woman who had been dealing with her tantrum-throwing son – was approaching Kathy's desk. Kathy hadn't noticed her yet. "Hey Kathy, could you run down to the vaults for me? I need you to just-…"

Kathy had seen the woman, and I hoped my plan would work. "Oh, Ruby, can't you go yourself? I have to help this lady."

"I don't know the new codes yet," I shrugged, as if my life didn't depend on it. "I haven't been down there yet."

"Here," she sighed, ripping a piece of paper from a notepad on her desk. She grabbed a pen, smiling at the woman in front of her. "I'll be right with you, ma'am." She scribbled three different rows of four-digit numbers, before handing it to me. "Hurry up down there Ruby, we're swamped this morning."

"I'll only be a few minutes," I said, taking it. It had worked. My plan actually worked. Waiting until Kathy was too distracted by a customer to focus solely on me worked!

One more glance at the clock told me I had twenty minutes left. Time flies when you're trying to commit crimes. I hadn't expected it to be as easy as that. I should have realized that, after a month of working here and knowing the old codes, Kathy wouldn't hesitate to give me the new ones. I hated lying. I hated the fact that Kathy had trusted me, and I had used her, even if I had no choice. A part of me wished that you would just click that button and the bomb would explode so I wouldn't have to see the chaos you were going to create. While Kathy was chatting to the woman whose child was clearly about to throw another tantrum, I left the bank, holding that piece of paper, feeling as if everyone was staring at me. You know the crazy thing? Hank, the lovely security man, waved at me as I left, blissfully unaware of what I was doing.

I made it to that alleyway near the park, silently slipping out of everyone's view. No one noticed anyway. I don't know how long I stood there with tears threatening to fall from my eyes before you appeared. I heard you before I saw you, marching towards me. You were clapping, as if I had just put on a performance. "Very, very good Ruby. I'm impressed-_ah. _For a second there, I thought your little friend…_Kathy_, was it? I thought she was onto us. You are a wonderful liar, you know. So…natural."

You imitated my voice as you stood close to me, smiling. "_Oh, Kathy, my grandmother is so ill, her poor heart…_Really, Ruby Red, I didn't know you had it in you. Your grandmother died when you were four and your father never knew his mother. But Kathy wouldn't know that, would she? Well done," you murmured, yanking the piece of paper from my hands. Another bit of information about my life that you said as if you spoke of the weather. I wanted to know how you knew all this. There was no way you could possibly know every single thing about me. You tapped my nose with the piece of rolled-up paper, your eyes burning with a malicious sort of joy. "Tomorrow, the party's _really _gonna star_t_."


	5. The Bank

**A/N: **_Sorry for the late update! My bad..But here it is! Bozo the Clown, hm, who could that be..._

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**- Chapter Five - **_  
_

****_The Bank_

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"_Things are not always what they seem; outward form deceives many; rare is the mind that discerns what is carefully concealed within."_

**- Phaedrus 40 A.D**

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I don't know if you like thriller movies – or if you've even _seen _one, to be quite honest – but the killer always drags it out. Being a deranged psychopath, he tortures his victim, takes them to a secluded area and just when you think the victim has a chance to survive, to escape their tormenter – _bang_. They're dead. It's all over. Luckily for me, you didn't seem quite so intent on murdering me just yet. I could still get away, couldn't I? Maybe I was holding onto some deluded hope that I could get out of this mess alive, without any long-lasting damage. Fat chance. I knew as soon as Happy threw a mask, some shoes and a new dress onto my stomach as I lay on my bed that I would never be the same old Ruby again. Which isn't all that bad, when you think about it.

The dress was a bright purple. It was pretty, I must admit. The sleeves ended at my elbows, the hem just above my knees and it clipped in nicely at the waist, making me wonder how you knew my size. I didn't ask. Happy didn't seem to be too happy that day. He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself. The shoes were purple, too. Flat, not heels. I guess you can't really rob banks in heels. Purple must be your favourite colour. I spent quite a while examining the mask. It was a brilliant white colour, cleaner than Happy's and Dopey's. The cheeks were tinted a faint pink, the lips a bright red and the eyes rimmed with painted black eyeliner. Distinctly more feminine and obviously made just for me. I wondered if it was you who made it, or did you just buy it? Somehow, I could imagine you taking the time to create it. You were a little on the creative side, after all.

I was quite amused to find that Happy had some manners. He told me to get dressed and that he would wait outside in the hallway for me. Usually the henchmen in the thriller movies are utter pigs that leer at you while you try to undress. Which, I suppose, they already had when you put that bomb on me. While I was busy putting on the shoes, Happy tapped on the door. "Hurry it up, kid. We got a bank robbery on our hands. And we gotta pick up a guy named Bozo too."

"I'm coming, I'm coming, hold your horses," I muttered, hopping on one foot as I put on the other shoe. I didn't put the mask on yet. I wished I had a mirror. My sandy blonde hair felt so limp. I wondered how you'd react if I asked for a shower. Sighing, I opened the door and faced Happy, who glanced me up and down before nodding, as if approving of me. He took me roughly by my arm, yanking me to his side. He didn't have to worry about me running away on him. Not with a gun in his hand. I'm not that stupid. I tried to keep up with his brisk pace, when I asked, "Where is he?"

We both knew I meant you. "He ain't coming, sweetheart. Called this morning, said he had stuff to take care of. He sent Grumpy to help out and said this Bozo guy would fill in for him."

That baffled me. You had seemed so…_excited_ for this. It didn't seem like something you would miss out on. Though you always managed to surprise me before. I guess I just thought it was another one of those times. Honestly, when Happy pushed me into the back seat of the van, I wasn't exactly thinking of your strange ways. I was thinking that a lot of innocent people were gonna be hurt today.

The passenger door swung open. "Shotgun!" a man I assumed was 'Grumpy' called out as he jumped in, sounding quite cheery for a guy who was about to rob a bank. From how they were acting, they should have swapped their masks. Happy was very sullen and nervous, whereas Grumpy seemed almost thrilled. Running on adrenaline, I guess. When I was younger, and my dad drove us to our new homes, my favourite part was the journey. I didn't want them to end, because when they did, it would mean having to go to a new school and make new friends and pretend I was happy. I didn't want the journey in the van with Happy and Grumpy to end either.

We turned a corner, and the car squealed to a stop. I nearly hit my damn head on the back of Grumpy's seat. Cursing, I glared darkly at them. The door opened, and in came another clown.

I imagined those tiny little cars in old circus shows, where hundreds of clowns climb out of them. You know those ones, don't you? _That man must be Bozo_, I thought. He wore a navy suit and a mask that had an angry expression painted on it. His clothes were wrinkled and shabby, and he had a blue gear-bag with him. He put it between us, and stared out the window. He didn't even glance at me. I fiddled with my mask that I held in my lap, dreading the moment I would have to wear it. That, in my mind, meant I was just like you. Unsurprisingly, Bozo's blue gear-bag was filled with weapons when he opened it. He pulled out a gun, loading it and holding it in his lap. He stared out the window for most of the journey. It was almost like he didn't know anyone else was in the car with him. He was invisible.

Happy and Grumpy spoke about the bank robbery with ease. They had probably done this many times before. "Three of a kind, let's do this," Happy said.

"That's it, three guys?"

"Two guys on the roof, every guy gets a share, that's five shares, that's plenty," Happy replied gruffly.

"Six shares. Don't forget the guy who planned the job."

I perked up at this, listening to them carefully. They might let something slip about you.

"He thinks he can sit it out and still take a slice? I know why they call him the Joker."

Grumpy seemed to be looking at me in the mirror in front of him. "What about her? What's she doin' here anyway?"

"I have a name you know," I huffed. "It's Ruby."

Happy chuckled. "That's right. _Ruby. _What do you have that he wants anyway, kid?"

I wondered how old Happy was beneath that mask, seeing as he called me 'kid' a lot. Bozo was watching me closely, like he only realized I was here now. "I wish I knew," I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Hey, count yourself lucky he ain't killed you," Grumpy said, and I think he was grinning behind that mask of his. "_Yet_," he added beneath his breath a few seconds later. Bozo stared at Grumpy's back for a few moments, like he couldn't tear himself away. Then, he cocked his gun and stared out the window again. I wondered where Dopey was. Maybe he was meeting us at the bank.

"I bet she can't even shoot someone," Happy snickered.

"Sorry I'm not a murderer in my spare time," I snapped. I felt braver in front of these three men than I did around you. They didn't intimidate me as much. They both laughed at me. I rolled my eyes. My father had a lot of guns around when I was a kid, but he never let me use them. He didn't think they were proper for girls. One of the many rules in our home was that we never, ever even _looked _at those guns without permission. I was quite surprised when Bozo took my hand. I even jumped a little, because until then he hadn't moved much. He had simply stared out that window for the entire journey.

He put a gun in my hand, closing my fingers around it. With that done, he picked up my mask from my lap and placed it gently on my face. I stared at him. You really know where to find your crazy henchmen, don't you? He turned his head slightly to the left, raising his hands as if he were taking a picture of me, before he nodded contently and turned to stare out the window again. I didn't plan on using the gun Bozo gave me. I didn't want to be a murderer. The car screeched to a halt. Grumpy and Happy leapt out of the car, while Bozo picked up the bag. I got out, hesitating as I slammed the door behind me. Could I make a run for it then? Grumpy and Happy were running for the bank doors, obviously prepared. They wouldn't notice me.

It seemed I didn't have much time to think about it. Bozo came bolting around the side of the car, shoving me towards the bank. I had missed my chance. My entire body felt as if it were electrified as we ran into that bank. Happy aimed at the ceiling and began shooting. A woman screamed loudly. I was certain that it was Kathy who screamed. I just knew it. Bozo didn't give me the chance to hold back. He kept a firm grip on my wrist as he ran in, the bag swinging wildly at his side. Hank, the very sweet security guard who I was good friends with, received a head-butt from Grumpy. Bozo put his bag on one of the desks in the middle of the room, pulling out more guns.

My hands were shaking so badly. I had never been so scared in my entire life. The mask was sticking to my skin, my palms sweaty. I saw Kathy, standing beside a man named Ken. I had never really spoken to Ken much, but I felt so bad for him when Happy dragged him over the desk and pushed him onto the floor. Kathy was screaming, which wasn't a very good idea. Happy had a gun in his hand after all. "Stand there," Bozo ordered, in a deep voice muffled by his mask, shoving me towards Happy. I don't know why he even bothered giving me a gun. A woman sitting on the floor took one look at me and began shrieking. Bozo put something in her hands, putting a finger over his mouth to tell her to be quiet. It was a grenade.

"Obviously we don't want you doing anything with your hands other than holding on for dear life," Happy yelled.

"On the ground, stay on the ground, nobody move!"

I don't know why Grumpy felt the need to yell that. It was quite clear not a single person here would even dare move for fear of being blown up by a grenade or shot by some clowns. Suddenly, the sound of a gun went off. I thought one of the hostages had been shot, and I turned around, only to find Mr Roberts standing there with a shotgun in his hands. He had a determined, pissed-off look on his face. Wow, who knew my boss had a shotgun hidden in his desk? Bozo pushed me onto the ground, forcing us both to take cover behind one of the desks. I thought my heart would explode it was beating so fast.

"Shit," I whispered. "We're dead. Dead, dead, dead."

Bozo shrugged. Another shot rang out, dust filling the air above us. I let out a small, terrified shriek. Only a few weeks ago, I was a normal person working in this bank. The most I worried about was paying bills. Not bank robberies. Nothing like this. Bozo gave me another shove, pushing me in front of him. We shuffled forward on our hands and knees. More shots rang out. I didn't expect my boss to have such a good aim with a shotgun. I came to a stop beside Happy who crouched behind a table. Bozo hid with his back against the table, his gun held to his chest.

"Huh. This was going pretty well, isn't it?" I muttered angrily.

"Do you have any idea who you're stealing from?!" Mr Roberts roared. "You and your friends are dead!"

I was right. We were going to die.


	6. Mr Nice Guy

**A/N:** _Guys, thank you so much for the follows and reviews and all that stuff :) I really can't thank you enough, you have no idea how happy it makes me! :) _

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**- Chapter Six –**

_Mr Nice Guy_**  
**

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For the first time in my life, as I sat on those icy cold tiled floors with two men in clown masks beside me and my former boss wielding a shotgun just feet away, I missed you. I really did. Perhaps it was a crazy, spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, but I did. I missed you, Joker. My heart was thumping, my palms sticky with sweat as I gripped a gun in my hand and the only thing I could think about was the fact that, if you were there, you would know what to do. I wasn't a bank-robber. I had never even stolen anything in my life, never even seriously _considered _it. Now look at me. I licked my lips, shutting my eyes and trying to focus. If any of us made a move, Mr Roberts would shoot us without another thought.

"What are we gonna do?" I whispered.

"He's out, right?" Happy asked. We both looked at Bozo, a guy we were trusting with our lives here. He thought about it for a moment, before he looked right at Happy and nodded. Happy went to stand up, and I was about to follow suit when Bozo clamped a hand around my wrist to keep me down. I knew then that he had lied. A deafening shot echoed throughout the room. Bozo jumped up, aiming at Mr Roberts and shooting within seconds. He worked fast, didn't he? I put my hands over my ears and shut my eyes. He shot my boss. Bozo had _shot my damn boss_. A guy who, though he could sometimes be a pain, was actually a pretty nice guy. As crazy as it sounds, I felt immensely guilty. I hadn't shot him, or even threatened him, but I could have – no, _should _have done something to stop it from happening.

Happy stood up. "Where did you learn to count?!" he asked, outraged.

He ran off to go fetch the money, leaving Bozo and I alone with the hostages and a wounded Mr Roberts. When I opened my eyes, I wasn't surprised to find Bozo tilting his head as he studied me. All Bozo seemed to do was stare. He began walking around, observing the hostages. I stood up shakily, holding onto the table to steady myself. I could barely look in Mr Roberts' direction without my tummy churning. Didn't he have kids? A wife? I bet all these hostages had families waiting for them at home, too. Thinking that their brother, sister, father or whatever had simply gone to the bank. Not that they would be held hostage by some deranged clowns. When Bozo came close to me, I asked, "Are we almost done yet?"

He looked at his watch and shrugged. He refused to speak at all. I see why we brought this guy along, he was just _so _helpful.

Happy returned with a lot of bags, filled with money. I glanced behind him expectantly, waiting for Grumpy or Happy or any other clown to appear.

"Where are the other guys?" I asked when they hadn't shown up. Bozo didn't even glance over at us as Happy chuckled and said, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to sweetheart."

I knew what he meant. They were dead. My heart dropped to my stomach. Happy chucked a bag of money at me, which I then threw onto the pile with disgust. Is this what it was all for? _Money_? Mr Roberts was almost dying all because of some money. Dirty, filthy money. I went back to the table, ignoring Bozo's gaze until he returned to picking up the bags and putting them in a pile. I rubbed my temples, closing my eyes again to avoid looking at Mr Roberts on the floor, lying in pain. I was going to have nightmares for the rest of my life. Horrible, guilt-ridden nightmares at that.

"That's a lot of money. If this Joker guy was so smart, he would've had us bring a bigger car," Happy said. The sound of a gun being loaded filled the air. I tensed instantly, my eyes opening in shock. Oh no. I turned slowly. Happy was pointing a gun at Bozo. And boy, if he shot him, what would stop him shooting me?

"I'm betting the Joker told you to kill me soon as we loaded the cash," Happy murmured, sounding very smug with himself for figuring that out.

Bozo sighed and checked his watch. "No, no, no, I kill the _bus driver_."

Bozo took a step to his right, and Happy followed him with the gun. "Bus driver?" he repeated. After another step, he became annoyed. "What bus driver?"

I let out a shriek when a bus crashed through the wall. Really, Joker, I thought I was having some sort of crazy dream. Maybe those drugs you gave me in the café never really wore off. Happy fell to the ground. I didn't lift his mask to find out if he was dead or just unconscious. Bozo turned to stare at me. A man jumped from the emergency exit door of the bus, landing with an _oomph_. "School's out, time to go!" he said. "Guy's not getting up, is he?" He took a bag Bozo threw at him, putting it in the school bus.

"That's a lot of money," the new clown declared excitedly as they continued throwing the bags onto the bus. "What happened to the rest of the guys?"

Bozo glanced behind him and shot the new clown too, without a second thought. _This is it, _I thought, _he's going to kill me_. He took a few steps toward me, outstretching his hand like he wanted me to take it. I stared at him, waiting for him to raise his gun and shoot me. But he just stood there, silently waiting. When I didn't move, he marched over to me. He put a hand on the small of my back and grabbed my wrist, pushing me towards the bus. Heck, he even helped me get in, but he turned and made his way back across the bank. Hostages flinched away from him, eyes tracking the gun in his hand. The gun that had just killed one of his accomplices.

I sat on one of the bus seats with my head in my hands, taking deep, shaky breaths. Sick rose in my throat when I felt a bag thrown against my feet and a voice call out, "Think you're smart, huh? Well the guy that hired you, he'll just do the same to you…"

Mr Roberts, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. My heart clenched as Bozo put away his gun, strolling towards the poor man.

"Oh criminals in this town used to believe in things. Honour…_Respect_. Look at you," Mr Roberts spat in disgust. "What do you believe in, huh? What do you believe in?!"

Bozo knelt on the ground beside him, shoving a smoke grenade in his mouth. "I believe…whatever doesn't kill simply makes you…_stranger._"

It was you. I knew it without even looking up that it was you. All along, you had been hiding behind Bozo's mask, pretending to be a henchman. And I fell for it. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I heard your footsteps and finally met your gaze. You came towards me, a bright smile on your painted face. You shoved past me after closing the door, leaping over the seats. My mind had gone blank. Only moments ago, I wished you were here. My wish came true, it seemed. When I looked at you sitting in the driver's seat, I wasn't so sure I wanted it anymore. As the bus rattled and pulled away, I watched Mr Roberts on the ground through my mask. His eyes were wide and terrified, like mine. Smoke blurred his face from view. I gave up and made my way to your side.

I saw your eyes narrow at passing police cars. I thought about rushing to the window, slamming myself against it and screaming for help until I heard a gun click. You had it held by your side, but you could shoot me as quickly as you shot the clown who brought us the bus in the first place. "Don't even think about it Ruby. It would be very unfortunate if I had to hurt you now wouldn't it, _sweetheart?_"

I glared at you, and you burst into laughter, clapping your hands against the wheel.

"He kept calling you that." I knew you meant Happy. "Sweetheart. You aren't his sweetheart."

"I'm not yours, either. Why did you hide behind that mask?" I asked, taking advantage of your happy mood.

"To have some fun and keep an eye on you. You seem so intent on ruining our fun by running away that I thought I would play a little trick. You aren't _mad_, are you, Ruby Red?"

Without waiting for an answer, you turned around. "The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round," you half-sang, half-roared. "The wheels on the bus go…_boom_!"

* * *

I was blind-folded, standing in the middle of a room. You didn't want me to see the warehouse we were in or how to get there. The bus did go 'boom' as you put it. You took us to an old tire yard, taking out the bags of money and put them into another car that was already parked, waiting for us. You had planned it all so perfectly. When you had safely put the money away, you threw some grenades into the bus. Then, as we drove away, the bus exploded behind us. In those cheesy romance movies, the loving couple always drive toward the sunset. For us, we were the odd couple that drove away from the explosions. We were alone now, and you stood right in front of me. I could feel your breath against my cheek as you leaned forward. You were too close. I didn't like it.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked. I was taking advantage of your good mood.

My question surprised you. "Now _why _would I do tha_t_?" you asked, clicking your _t_'s once again.

"You killed the others," I said quietly. My body was tense. You seemed impossibly close, like you were going to hug me. Or maybe strangle me. Anything is a possibility with you, Joker. "You might kill me too."

"_Might_," you repeated. "That's the keyword."

You put your hands on my arms, and I lost my control. I hated you for messing with my mind. For messing me up completely. Making me think that one moment, you would never hurt me and the next you might kill me. I lashed out at you. I punched wildly, and I know I hit your eye. I kicked at you, screamed at you. I hit your jaw, which made you release me momentarily.

I hadn't expected it, especially with the blindfold making it hard to tell where you were, and I fell hard on the floor. You let out a furious growl and, just as I was growing even more hysterical, you sat on top of me to keep me down. It stopped suddenly when you gripped my hair, yanking it painfully hard. You slapped me hard across my cheek and kept me pinned to the ground, sitting on top of my stomach. You were stronger than I was, and I hated it. I felt like a wild animal that had been trapped. Something cold pressed against my neck. A knife. You ripped off my blindfold, your black eyes burning into mine. You have such an intense gaze.

"Ruby, _stop it_," you barked. I was surprised to see a trickle of blood run down your chin. I had done that. I felt a little proud of myself for it, too. You deserved it. My cheek was burning from where you had slapped me. I didn't breathe too quickly, afraid of the knife pressing against me. I wanted to hit you again. Your grip on my arm was like a python's. "I'm not gonna kill you. Do that again though, and I might just lose my _temp_-er. Got it?"

Your hair was wild, your eyes vicious and your mouth set in a snarl. I nodded quickly, feeling the knife nick my skin. It wasn't a bad cut. You could have done a lot worse, and we both knew it. You stood up, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. Blood had smeared across it and you sighed.

"Get up," you ordered. I did as you told me, my legs feeling like jelly. "Now come with me."

You stomped ahead of me, the tail of your purple coat flailing behind you. I followed nervously, glaring at the back of your head. I was glad you hadn't hurt me too badly. My arms would bruise, my stomach would hurt from where you had sat on me and of course my cheek was stinging, but compared to Mr Roberts, I was very lucky. You were clenching and unclenching your fists as you walked, and I knew if I had pushed you even an inch further you would have done something you might have regretted. We walked down a dull, grey hallway with at least ten doors on either side. We came to the fourth door on the left when you stopped.

Remember those horror and thriller films I mentioned before? Well, when you opened that door and showed me a small bathroom. I saw a bath filled with steaming water, and I thought you were planning to drown me. You could hardly blame me for being so paranoid, J. You had been holding me down just moments ago with a knife to my throat. I thought I had crossed a line, that you had been planning to drown me in the water as some kind of punishment. Get rid of me like you had done with your henchmen so easily. "Wash up. I'll be back for you in half an hour."

You turned around, your jaw tense with repressed anger. I watched you walk down the hall until you came to a complete stop. You didn't turn around as you said, "Pull a stunt like that again Ruby and I really will stop being _Mr Nice Guy_. You don't want tha_t_. Believe me."


	7. Animal

**A/N: **_I'm so sorry it's a late update! :( I sort of blanked.. but here it is :)_

* * *

**- Chapter Seven – **

_Animal_

* * *

With Dopey and Happy gone, we were alone. When they were around, there would always be a hum of noise throughout the warehouse wherever they were. I would hear their laughter echo through the large, never-ending hallways, or hear them compare their guns or brag about how many banks they had robbed. Now that they were dead, there was an eerie silence. I could hear everything. The sound of your boots marching down the hallway, or hear your manic laughter from another room. Mostly though, we would sit together. The first time you entered my room, you brought a chair and sat on the opposite side of the room, like you were testing me. You had still been annoyed with me for punching you – I still don't regret that, by the way – but you said nothing. You let me read, which I'll always be thankful for. You'd give me whatever you could, especially when you vanished for a few hours. Anything not to be bored.

The second time you came into my bedroom, you sat closer to me. I felt like a wild animal in a zoo, one that you were trying to tame. Again, you said nothing. Just sat there, playing with a Joker card in your hands. I kind of missed the noise Happy and Dopey made. It was _too _quiet, you know? The only good thing was the heavy sound your boots made. I could tell where you were. Or rather, how _close _you were. I never put my guard down, even when you were far away.

Then, on the third day – at least, I think that was how many days passed. I had no way of telling – you sat beside me on that lumpy mattress, side by side, our shoulders pressed together. I held my breath, my entire body feeling as if it were electrocuted. My mind was racing. _What do I do, what do I do…_ You rested your arms on your knees, your hands dangling, leaning your head against the wall. A newspaper lay beside you. I sat cross-legged, my hands clasped together nervously. You weren't wearing that long, heavy purple coat. Your sleeves were rolled to your elbows, but I bet you were hiding knives elsewhere. Always prepared for a fight.

"I brought you something," you said after a few moments of silence. You picked up the newspaper, placing it in my lap. My eyes widened in surprise. Right there, on the front page, was a picture of me and my sisters. Violet and Karla, standing on either side of me. It wasn't a bad picture. I was the only one smiling though. Karla, she wasn't even looking at the camera, she was focused on something else. At least Violet had an arm strung loosely around my shoulder. It was an old picture. I bet they couldn't find anything newer, seeing as I hadn't seen either of my sisters in years. "Do you miss them?"

I thought about it, before shrugging. "They're happier with their own lives."

"No, no, _no_. That isn't good enough Ruby. They _left _you and now they're pleading to have you back."

I looked at you, taken by surprise. "They are?"

You nodded, staring hard at the floor. Your jaw was tense, like you were grinding your teeth. "They didn't care until you were gone. No one ever does."

"You're wrong," I replied defiantly, determined not to be brainwashed by you. "They did care."

You snorted bitterly. "One lousy card at Christmas doesn't count."

"They didn't want to stay in Gotham. They wanted to get away from here and start a new life."

"A new life that didn't include you."

"I can look after myself. I don't need them to look after me."

"Really? You are doing a _fan-tast_-tic job, Ruby."

"_You _took _me_. I didn't plan this. I didn't ask for it."

Your eyes narrowed dangerously at me. "Don't play dumb with me. Your... _sisters_ only want to know the big-shots. They're greedy. They want money, and they left Gotham to get it. Your oldest sister, she was quick to marry that lawyer, wasn't she? To forget you even existed. _I would never forget_. See that is the difference between _us_...and them_," _you growled, pointing at no one in particular. I knew you meant the rest of the world. "We...We don't need those things. Money means nothing."

"Then why did you steal from the bank?" I asked curtly.

You grinned, tapping your nose knowingly. "All in due time, Red. All in due time."

"They'll find me eventually," I said. I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince you. You shrugged, leaning against the wall again. "And they'll find you, too. They'll find both of us and put you away."

"Are you sure about that, Ruby? You say that they'll lock me up and throw away the key, but what about you?"

"Me?"

"Read the rest of that paper, you'll understand." I didn't like the smile on your face. You were enjoying this.

I scanned the newspaper. It said I was missing. They said I worked at the bank and my sudden disappearance was being treated as suspicious. That I was a _possible suspect_. "You were right."

You raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh? About _what_, Ruby Red?"

"They think I might have helped you." My eyes burned with tears. It was hard to hold them back. Even my voice was hoarse. "That I'm a criminal like you."

You grinned, though it didn't fully meet your eyes. "Didn't I tell you we were the same? If they lock _me _up, then they'll lock _you _up, too."

"We're not the same! Why can't you just let me go!" I hissed, throwing the newspaper away. I didn't want to believe you. You had this way of messing with my mind. One moment, I was terrified of you. The next I wanted to punch and scream and roar at you. I don't know how you did it. I felt like I was losing my mind. Would I end up like you?

"I think you have _potential_. You know that money we stole-…"

"_You _stole," I whispered.

You swallowed and took a deep breath. You ran your tongue along your lower lip, jerking your head to look at me. I've figured that you do that whenever you try to rein in your temper. If you haven't noticed, you have a very, very vicious temper. "The money _we stole _was owned by the Mafia."

I waited for you to make some kind of joke, tell me you were kidding. But you didn't. I had read terrible stories about them. How they tortured people, murdered people. They were everywhere in Gotham, and very powerful. Well, at least they _had_ been extremely powerful at one point. Harvey Dent and Batman were doing a lot to change that. Stealing from them was a death sentence.

"What does that mean?" I asked. Being around you was like walking on eggshells.

"It _means _we'll have to visit them soon."

"Are you crazy?" I hissed. I realized quite quickly how stupid that sounded.

You smiled. "Not crazy. No, I'm not crazy at all. I'm _smart _Ruby. I know what I'm doing."

I began reading the newspaper again, seeing that Kathy was mentioned. _'"Ruby seemed like such a nice girl. Yes, there was a female robber, but I never would've guessed it could have been her. We got on so well that I never thought she would do this," says Kathy Hubbard, 36, one of the hostages of the bank robbery.' _

"Kathy would never say this," I frowned, my heart sinking. "She was my friend."

"You don't have _friends _in this world, Ruby. Everyone around you, they're not _friends_. They lie, and they cheat and they pretend to be your friend. Take away all these laws, all of the structure and the order, then you'll see what people are really like. You see, I know that none of the rules and none of the discipline matters at the end of the day. When it comes down to it, we're all just animals. We do what we can to _survive._ You know that better than anyone."

I threw the newspaper away, and we watched it skid across the floor. I didn't want to believe you. Kathy and I, we were friends. We went to lunch, chatted about our mundane problems. She couldn't think I would rob the very bank we worked at. Could she?

"This can't be real," I whispered beneath my breath. "The police, they can't just think I'd do that. I've never done anything like this in my life. My sisters do care about me. You're _lying_!"

You laughed loudly. "You keep telling yourself that Ruby. But you're smart, just like me. I know you are. You know just like I do that everyone lies."

I froze when you pressed your lips against the side of my temple. It was quick, not even two seconds long, but you stood up. You walked over to the newspaper, picking it up. _  
_

"There is someone you can trust, though," you said. "_Me_."

When you left, taking that newspaper with you, one thought crossed my mind. _I really am going crazy._


	8. The Mafia Meeting

**A/N: **_I am so sorry that it took me so long to update. I really am, it's just I got a little stuck, because I was considering how to handle this scene. I had to re-write the Joker a couple of times too, because he's really hard to write at times. _

_**Kitty W – **__I'm not able to send you a PM to thank you for your review, so I'll do it here. I'm so glad you read Stolen just because of this story! :) I was pretty happy with it, and __**(not to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it!) **__what I love so much about it is that it makes you feel like you're experiencing Stockholm Syndrome yourself, which is kind of why I wanted her to stay with Ty :) I can't answer your other question just yet because I want readers to decide that for themselves, if he really does love her or if it's just one of his tricks :) Thank you so much for your review! :)_

* * *

__**- Chapter Eight - **

****_The Mafia Meeting _

* * *

If you so much as slipped, you might pull the ring from that grenade and _boom_, we'd be goners. But that was the fun, wasn't it? One wrong move and that entire warehouse would be blown to smithereens. Like a five year old child, you were sticking your tongue out with concentration as you pulled a piece of purple string through the ring, tying it in a small knot when you had finished. I didn't bother asking why you were tying and looping all these grenades together. I simply lay on my tummy on that slightly lumpy mattress, watching you. Isn't it funny, how I wasn't even bothered by all the grenades lying in your lap? I must have lost my mind by then. I just knew you were too careful to slip up. I bet you had done this a thousand times before. I almost thought you had forgotten I was in the room, even though I was lying right in front of you. Your black eyes were narrowed as you tied yet another knot.

All those grenades looped together had begun to look like the bomb harness I had had to wear to the bank. I really hoped I wouldn't be the one to wear it when you finished the job. When you pulled a needle out of your pocket and picked up the expensive-looking suit jacket beside you, I let out a soft snort without meaning to. You glanced at me as you clicked your tongue against your teeth and raised your eyebrows. "Something funny, Ruby Red?"

"I didn't know you could sew is all," I said quietly, keeping my voice even.

"You underestimate me, Red," you murmured, carefully stitching the handmade grenade harness into the lining of your jacket.

"You're going to wear that," I said, stating it rather than asking.

"Think of it as a…._safety precaution_."

"Grenades? Safe?"

"What's the matter, Ruby? You sound…_frightened_" you asked, pausing in your sewing to look at me. You made a simple question sound like a threat. I thought you would attack me if I said that I was afraid. So I said nothing at all, and you eventually stopped staring at me. Looking you in the eye was always hard. "You see this little ring here? That goes around my thumb. If things should get a little, uh…" – you cleared your throat- "_heated _with our Mafia friends, this will be our back-up."

"Blowing ourselves up is our back-up?" I asked, raising my head to stare at you in shock. You nodded putting on your new suit jacket. It was pretty stylish, I had to admit. I nearly shrieked when you suddenly grabbed my throat, but I realized you only had a purple sash in your other hand. You had done it like a magician would, pulling the sash from inside your sleeve.

"Stay still," you ordered. You let go of my throat, tying the sash around my eyes. "We can't have you seeing where the party is, now can we?"

Even if I couldn't quite see you, I was trying my best to glare in your general direction. Even now, I _hate _having my eyes blocked in anyway. Being blindfolded meant I had to depend on you to guide me, and depending on a guy wearing grenades hand-stitched to the lining of his own jacket didn't seem like a very smart idea to me. You made me stand up, putting one arm around my waist and one hand on my arm to lead me.

"Watch your step," you whispered, your breath tickling my ear. You laughed loudly and gave me a small push. I tripped and fell hard into the back of that stupid van. Another thing I hated besides those blindfolds was the van. Not only did I have to sit in the back without a seatbelt to keep me in one place, you drove like a maniac. I had nothing to hold onto, and whenever you veered wildly around a corner, I would smash into the wall of the van and land with a hard _thump_. You would laugh crazily from your seat in the front, telling me we were just playing a game and it was all in the name of 'fun'. Well, if it was a game, I was hoping I would get a turn to drive and let you have 'fun' in the back, banging into the wall and falling over with every insane twist and turn.

Just when I thought I had gotten the hang of things, I heard the wheels screeching to a halt, and I slammed into the van doors again. Great. I already had a lot of bruises from the time I had punched you and you had held me too hard. The doors opened.

"Don't be so lazy, Ruby, we have work to do!" you exclaimed, giggling madly. I grunted in annoyance, pushing myself up from the ground. You obviously had no patience, as you grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the van, trying to hold back your laughter, letting out little bursts of chuckles. You ripped off my blindfold, standing far too close to me. Once again, our noses were almost touching. "You look nervous. Are you _afraid_?"

I ignored you, and you shook my arm harshly. Your tone was dark and angry when you hissed, "_I said_, are you _afraid_?"

"No," I replied, and that wasn't a lie. I was more afraid of you than I was of the Mafia, which is pretty strange. You were just one man, while the Mafia had a whole lot more on their side. Yet if I was asked who scared me more, it would be you without a doubt. We were parked just outside an alleyway. You pushed us against a wall, putting your hands on either of me, caging me. My breath hitched, feeling trapped. "What are you doing?"

"Sssh," you whispered. We stayed silent, until I finally heard what you could hear. The sound of footsteps approaching. You pulled the gun out slowly from your pocket, grinning brightly. You always seemed happiest when about to hurt someone. I bit on my tongue to stop myself crying out, which I knew I would when the gun went off. Guns are so terribly _loud, _especially when you were standing this close. The footsteps ceased, and we waited tensely. I glanced at you as you held the gun out, waiting. Your finger was already on the trigger the moment a man turned the corner. He wore a dark suit and glasses, his dark hair slicked back. He had a gun in his hands, too, but he wasn't quick enough.

_BANG!_

He fell to the ground, and you laughed, kicking him out of the way. "What a warm welcome, huh?"

You peered around the side of the alleyway, searching for more guards. I hadn't even considered the idea that they would have someone on the look-out for them. Then again, I didn't really go to Mafia meetings very often. I wouldn't know what they usually do. When you were certain there were no others, you strode towards the door at the back, opening it easily. You motioned for me to follow you. I did it rather reluctantly, wishing you would let me stay in the van instead.

I could hear the sound of chairs scraping against the tiled floor, voices in the room beside us.

"What the Hell is this?" one man asked. We stood side by side, listening to their conversation.

"As you are all aware," a new voice said, "one of our deposits were stolen. A relatively small amount. Sixty-eight million."

"Who's stupid enough to steal from us?" a man with a Russian accent asked. You and I looked at each other. That would be us.

"Two-bit whack job, wears a cheap purple suit and make-up," another man said.

"_Cheap suit_?" you growled. "This is _not _cheap. Does he think I bought my suit in the two-dollar store or something?"

The craziest thing happened – I laughed. It was small, and I hadn't entirely meant to do it. It sounded more like a giggle, and I covered my mouth instantly. Your eyes widened in surprise. I simply found it funny that you would be offended that a man in the Mafia had insulted your suit. I felt embarrassed for two reasons – firstly I thought you would give out to me for laughing in case the Mafia heard us, and secondly because I had never laughed at you, which is quite sad given the fact that your name is the Joker. I don't know what came over me, but it felt good to laugh, even if we were in a room right beside some vicious thugs who would kill us if they got the chance.

You titled your head, observing me for a few moments before you returned to listening in on the men. My cheeks felt as if they were burning. I had never laughed at anything you said. It almost made me feel _guilty_, as if laughing at something you said meant I liked you.

"I'm your only option," said the bodiless voice from the room beside us.

"So what are you proposing?"

"Move all deposits to one secure location, not a bank."

"Where then?"

"No one can know but me." I saw you roll your eyes and fix the cuffs of your suit. "If the police were to gain leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake."

The Russian man spoke again. "What would stop them getting to you?"

"I go to Hong Kong, far from Dent's jurisdiction. And the Chinese will not extradite one of their own."

"Are you ready for the fun to begin, Ruby?" you asked, your eyes practically sparkling. You pulled open your suit jacket, showing the rows of grenades stitched into it. "We still have our _safety precaution_, after all."

The Mafia. We were really going to meet the Mafia.


	9. Make Some Money

**A/N: **_Hi guys :) Thank you for all the kind reviews and follows and everything :) Of course, for this scene I had to add a few more things in, even though I don't usually like changing things but I had to! :) Thank you for reading, I love you guys! :) And I had to say, as crazy as it sounds, I __**love **__the Russian guy in this scene, I thought he was hilarious! :)_

* * *

_- Chapter Nine - _

_**Make Some Money**_

* * *

I had never felt so incredibly awkward in my entire life. Even when I accidentally ripped my skirt one day in high-school and everyone could see my embarrassingly pink lacy underwear whenever I walked, it was nothing compared to this. At least with the ripped skirt I could try to hide it with my books or borrow a friend's jumper to tie around my waist. Standing in front of the Mafia left me with nowhere to hide. Like I was standing completely naked in front of them. I had to stand to your left, my hands nervously fiddling with the hem of my dress behind my back. I held my head high and tried my best to look as if I had been to a million meetings just like this before, that it didn't bother me. I don't think it worked. The Russian guy seemed to catch onto this nervousness, and he smirked, winking at me, probably trying to scare me. Well, _that_ certainly worked.

You stood in front of me, having made your grand entrance. "And I thought _my _jokes were bad."

There was a man on a television screen in the centre of the room, and I was sure his face had grown paler when he saw you. I don't blame the guy. A man on the right side of the room glared darkly at you, clenching his fists on the table. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off."

Wow, we were off to a good start, weren't we? We had only just arrived and already you were being threatened. "How about a magic trick?" you asked, smiling as you pulled a pencil from one of your many pockets – careful to hide the grenades from view – and slamming it so hard into the wooden desk that it stood by itself. This couldn't end well.

I watched with wide eyes as the man motioned for 'his boy' to deal with you. You didn't look too worried about it. My heart began thudding, waiting for you to _do something_. Pull out a gun, maybe or – your personal favourite - the knife. But you simply said, "I'm gonna make this pencil…_disappear_." I wondered if by 'disappear' you meant 'blow us all up' using those grenades of yours. The thug tried to grab your arm, but you twisted his and slammed his face into the table. When he fell to the ground, my mouth felt open in shock.

The pencil had disappeared alright. Straight into that poor guy's eye socket.

"Ta-da! It's…it's _gone_," you grinned, taking a seat. "Oh, and by the way, the suit…it wasn't cheap. You outta know you bought it…"

I tried not to smile, thinking of what you had said when we were listening in on them earlier. You just couldn't let that go. Obviously, you took great offense to people insulting your clothes.

"What the Hell is this? Why is _she _here?" the man who called his 'boy' on you asked, glaring at me. I stared him right in the eye, refusing to back down. I don't know what would have happened if he tried to attack me or something. I always wondered. I wasn't able to do any 'magic tricks' like you could. "Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

"Well, they don't call me the Joker for nothing," you murmured, leaning back in your seat and tapping your fingers against the table, grinning at him. The man actually bared his teeth as if he wanted to leap across the table and rip you to shreds. He stood up, his chair screeching as he did so, and I wondered if he wanted you to put a pencil in his eye socket too.

The Russian man raised his hand lazily, as if he were bored by this entire affair. "Sit. I want to hear proposition."

Only he seemed vaguely interested in what you had to say. The other thugs, they merely glared at you. How could you be so calm? "Let's wind the clock back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn't _dare _cross any of you. I mean, what happened…your balls drop off? Hm?" I tried not to let myself smile or anything, to react in anyway. The Russian man looked at me, and shook his head as if saying that he had perfect balls, and I swear I thought I would die on the spot. I tried to hold back my laughter, because this had to be the craziest thing I had ever experienced. If this didn't make me lose my marbles, nothing would.

"You see a guy, like me-…" you continued.

"A _freak_," the thug in the suit growled menacingly.

I held my breath, waiting for you to react. I expected you to grab that pencil from the floor, jump over that table and stick it into his eyeball just like you had done to that poor guy lying on the ground.

"A guy like…me…look listen, I know why you have your little…_ahem, group therapy sessions_, in board daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night. _The Batman_. See Batman has shown Gotham your true colours, _unfortunately_," you murmured, your voice husky and low. "He's just the beginning. A-And as for the, uh, television's so called _'plan', _Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal. I know the squealers when I see them. And…"

You pointed at the screen, which quickly turned black as the man vanished. I watched the fear run through these grown men, as they shared nervous glances and straightened up in their seats. They clearly didn't want to trust you. I can't say I blame them. You glanced at me as if still making sure I was there, winking at me, showing how you had everything in control. You did that habit of yours, sticking your tongue out in a flash like a snake about to strike. They were like putty in your hands, I guess.

"What do you propose?" the Russian man asked in a gruff voice.

"It's simple, we uh, kill the Batman."

My eyes widened. Whispers ran throughout the room. I couldn't believe my ears. _Kill _Batman?

"If it's so simple, why haven't you done it yet?" a man with a red tie and grey hair asked.

"If you're good at something never do it for free." Well, I would always remember that piece of advice.

"How much you want?" the Russian guy asked.

"Uh. _Half_."

The men laughed, and I watched your expression darken. You hate when people don't take you seriously, which is kinda odd for a guy named the _Joker_. I can't really blame them for laughing. I mean, you made 'killing Batman' sound like a walk in the park.

"You're crazy," one man whispered, shaking his head at you.

"I'm not. No, I'm no-_t_," you replied, clicking your _t_'s. The man in the suit sitting to our right was literally grinding his teeth at you, twisting his hands together, glaring furiously at you. I met his gaze, and he bared his teeth once again in a snarl. I kept my face blank, but my heart was thumping. "If we don't deal with this now, soon, little uh, _Gambol_ here won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma."

"_Enough_ from the clown!" Gambol, the man in the suit, roared, standing up.

You were even quicker, on your feet in a flash. You showed them the intricate little grenades stitched into the lining of your fancy suit (and let's admit it, that really was a beautiful suit), and they jumped from their seats in fear. But the Russian man, he simply looked very impressed by you, switching his gaze between us with a kind of fascination.

"At-ta-ta-ta," you grinned. "Let's not _blow _this out of proportion."

I stifled a bit of laughter, because that joke reminded me of something you'd find in a Christmas cracker. Really cheesy.

Gambol didn't look like he wanted to murder you. Oh no, he looked like he wanted to _annihilate _you. Torture you and make you suffer. That man made my skin crawl with the look in his eyes. "You think you can just steal from us and walk away?"

"Yeah," you replied cautiously, eyes darting around the room. You gave me a small nudge in the direction of the door behind us, and I took the hint. We had out-stayed our welcome. I took a few steps backwards, wary of the men still standing, looking murderous.

"I'm putting the word out," Gambol growled. "Five hundred grand for this clown dead. A _million _alive. So I can teach him some _manners_ first."

"Alright, so, listen…why don't you give me a call when you want to start taking things a little more seriously," you babbled, grabbing a card from your pocket. "Here's my card."

I slipped into the room beside that one, leaning against the cold tiled walls, listening to my heart beat going a mile a minute. I felt breathless, and almost shrieked when you kicked the door open, running in. You grabbed me by the back of my neck, pushing me towards the exit door. You didn't even bother blind-folding me as we got into the van, slamming the doors. You drove like a maniac, which isn't surprising. You weaved in and out of traffic, as if you thought Gambol and his thugs would chase after us somehow.

You were hunched over the steering wheel, eyes wild and a demented smile on your face. "That was fun. _Fun, fun, fun_…Don't you think, Ruby Red?"

I leaned my head against the window, watching all the people blur past. Your idea of fun was far different to mine. I didn't look at you as I asked, "What do you plan to do about Gambol?"

"Hmm?"

Only then did I turn to stare at you in surprise. "He threatened to _kill_ you."

"Oh, that," you murmured breezily, eyes darting around the street in front of us as you veered crazily to the left. "Gambol…he's nothing to worry about."

I shrugged, sighing and turning away from you once again. I sunk deeper into my seat, hugging myself and ignoring your mad muttering to yourself. Every so often you would say my name and then babble something incoherent. I gave up trying to make out what it was you were saying. We drove for what felt like hours, but I wasn't sure. The sun would set soon. Batman would come out to play, and all those Mafia men would hide in the hopes that he would not find them. You screeched to a halt in a neighbourhood I didn't recognize.

"There!" you yelled, making me jump in surprise. You pointed at a group of three boys hanging around at the end of a long street of houses. It wasn't a particularly nice neighbourhood, and they didn't look like nice kids either.

"What?" I asked.

"People like money, don't they Ruby? It makes the world go 'round. They'd _kill _for money – heck, I should know – but uh, those kids, right there, well, they could help us with our little Gambol problem, couldn't they?" you asked excitedly, your eyes glinting in the street lights.

I don't know when it became '_our _little Gambol problem', but I nodded slowly, simply because you had taken a gun out from beneath your seat – a good hiding place, I suppose. You shoved it into your pocket and opened the van door. Almost like a gentleman, you rushed around to my side and opened the door for me. Unlike a gentleman, you yanked me out without any sort of warning. I was already bruised enough, shaken from our stint with the Mafia. I decided three kids were nowhere near as scary as the Mafia.

"What are they gonna do?"

"Like I said, Ruby, some people would _kill_ for money." You winked at me, leading me by my arm. Rather loudly, you said, "Hello boys."

The first to turn was a boy wearing a grey tracksuit. In the dark light, he probably couldn't see who you were probably. "What do you want, fool?"

You stepped in the light, and the poor boy almost wet his pants. Of course he knew you. Who in Gotham wouldn't recognize the make-up, the suit, the scarred smile? The boy faltered, falling backwards into his friends with a shocked expression. I knew you were proud of this. Proud that you made them feel so much _fear_, the one thing you wanted me to stop feeling.

"W-What do you want?" that same boy repeated.

You raised an eyebrow, grinning maliciously. "How would you boys like to make some money?"


	10. Taking a Gambol

**A/N: **_I am so sorry I didn't update sooner, I just had no internet…I'll update again as quickly as I can!_

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_- Chapter Ten - _

**Taking a Gambol**_  
_

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I felt your breath tickle my ear, your hand slither around my throat and the knife pressing against my jawline. My skin prickled as if it was burning, and I gripped the steering wheel even tighter. The three boys were sitting in the backseat, marvelling at the guns you had given them. Sixteen year old boys, staring at you as if you were some kind of God to be admired. And you revelled in it. Putting on a grand show, that was what you did best. You might have looked funny to anyone who happened to see you wearing a trash bag around your neck, and it rustled with every movement. "This, boys, is my sweet little Ruby Red," you murmured proudly, like you were showing off a prize.

I bit my lip and kept quiet. You were in a pretty good mood, that much was obvious. You were practically buzzing, itching to cause some chaos. And the violence, of course. Your much loved violence. Gambol wouldn't know what hit him. The 'plan' was to simply pretend you were dead. That these boys, despite their size and obvious immaturity, managed to do what Gambol could not – and that was killing you. Funny, I couldn't imagine anything being able to hurt you. You seemed inhuman somehow, almost invincible. You knew his hiding place, but I would be the one driving there. I had driven a van before, and you knew that without asking. My dad used to drive a van. You knew that, too.

"Let's get going, Red," you whispered. "We got a lot to do tonight. And don't try anything funny, _sweetheart-a_, we wouldn't want this van crashing, now would we?"

You grinned and leaned back in your seat, whispering in a hushed voice to the boys who hung on your every word. I couldn't hear what you said, and I wasn't sure I wanted to, either. Every few moments, you would give me an order. Left, right. Two more lefts and three rights. On and on until I felt like we had been driving forever. Finally, once you paused in your intense conversation with those boys, you barked out a solid "Stop. We're here."

Gambol's place wasn't much. Like with the Mafia meeting, we were by an alleyway. You jumped out of the van, the three boys hot on your tail. You yanked my door open, and with a silly grin on your face you offered a gentlemanly arm to me, helping me out. I was watching you warily, like you were gonna play a nasty trick on me. You were the _Joker _after all. The boys walked with a kind of swagger, clearly immensely proud you had chosen them to help you with your plan to rid us of Gambol. I cursed them inwardly for thinking this was some sort of game.

"Ruby, help me with this," you ordered, pointing at the trash bag swinging from your neck, and I did as you asked pulling it over your head, covering your arms and legs. Then the boys dragged you – one boy holding your arms, the other your legs – towards the back door. The last boy grabbed my arm, and I glared at him, but he was grinning.

"Boss's orders," he smirked. I thought about running. I really did. I could see the mouth of the alleyway. This wasn't a good neighbourhood, I knew that much from simply driving through here while you were busy sharing your plans with these idiotic boys. Though they didn't have much choice. Had they refused you, I'm sure you would have hurt them somehow. You didn't like it when people said 'no' to you. If I ran, I wondered how long it would take for you to catch me. You were taller than me, and bigger than these boys by a long shot, but you were still slim and quick, fast enough to grab me. How long would it take for you to yank those bags off your body, to realize I was making a dash for it, and to drag me back here – or worse, kill me?

The boy was holding my arm in a tight grip – I had a feeling you had warned him about me, probably telling him that if I managed to escape turning this, the boy would have to pay the price for it. The boy marched us down that alleyway with the other two carrying you in tow, before we came to a stop in front of a metal door. The boy hit it three times with his fist, and we both waited. A few moments later, the door swung open, and two brutish thugs stood staring at us.

"What do you want?" the one on the left asked.

"We got you the Joker, man," the boy holding my arm stated, and pulled us aside to prove it. The one thug who had spoken brushed past us, pulling the trash bag from your face momentarily. You were a fantastic actor, looking as serene and peaceful as an angel. Apparently satisfied, he nodded and the two thugs took you in their arms, pulling the bag back over your head. I wondered if it was hard to breathe, or if it was sore being dragged around by men who didn't show much care, banging you into the door and then the wall as they pulled up upstairs. I followed them, with those boys behind me.

Gambol was by the snooker table. Our eyes met, and he straightened up. They put you on the snooker table, and I felt my heart thudding. What if Gambol knew you were faking? When he pulled back that bag, I held my breath, judging Gambol's reaction. His eyes ran up and down your face, his jaw set. He looked like he was grinding his teeth, and when he looked at me I froze, until he eventually glanced back down at you, looking very pleased. I looked at you for a moment, noticing how vivid your scars were once your make-up was half-faded. You stayed incredibly still. Not even a twitch. For a moment I wondered if you really had died, you were so frozen.

Gambol observed you, walking around the snooker table. "So. Dead, that's five hundred-…"

You jumped up before he could say another word, stabbed the men on either side of you and grabbed Gambol, holding a knife to his mouth. The same knife you had used on me a while ago. You want to know the crazy thing? I felt a lot better when you weren't pretending to be dead. I don't know why. I guess – and this is what really makes me wonder if I should be thrown into an asylum like the ones I heard you had been in – it made me feel _safer_. Can you believe that? The most dangerous man in Gotham made me feel safer, because you had a line. A line I didn't think you would cross, not yet anyway.

These thugs, they didn't know me at all. I was just some woman who happened to be in their way. You wanted me for something, and I didn't know what, but I hoped it meant you wouldn't kill me. You could beat me – you already had, if you remember – and you could threaten. You could scare me out of my wits and make me feel like the tiniest being on the planet, and terrify me with a simple look. But in that moment, when you lay on the table pretending to be dead, it made me realize that if you were actually dead, the thugs would have killed me too. Why wouldn't they?

You would cost them five thousand dollars. I would simply be one bullet to the brain, and another body to deal with. Nothing major, not for them. I suppose you were, in my poor mind, the only thing stopping them from killing me. The boys, who probably thought they were in a video-game, pulled out their guns and forced Gambol's men to the ground, and I stood a foot away from you.

"How about alive?" you asked, putting the knife to the corner of Gambol's mouth. I saw the shudder that ran through the man, and I knew how he felt. I saw the flicker of the fear, the sweat dripping down his temple. We had something in common, Gambol and I – we had both been held hostage by you. "You wanna know how I got these scars? My father…was a drinker…and a _fiend_. And one night, he goes off _crazier _than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself."

I felt my chest tighten uncomfortably. You told me a different story about your scars. You licked your lips, darting your tongue out like a snake again, and you glanced at me – for just a split second, our eyes met, before your eyes returned to Gambol, who looked like he would cry.

"He doesn't like that. Not. One. _Bi-t._ So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and he says _why so serious?_ Comes at me with the knife, _why so serious? _Sticks the blade in my mouth. Let's put a _smile on that face! And…_why so serious?"

You turned your eyes to the thug on the floor, and I let out a small scream when you slit Gambol's mouth wide open. He fell like a rag doll, his blood spurting all over your shoes and the ground. Not that it bothered you. You seemed rather pleased with yourself, tearing off the trash bags. Gambol lay on his stomach, blood pooling around his mouth, and I was glad he wasn't looking my way.

"Now, our operation is small. But, there's a _lot _of potential for…_aggressive expansion_. So which of you gentlemen would like to join our team? Oh, there's only one spot open right now so we're gonna have…_try-outs_."

I heard a snap, and finally tore my eyes away from Gambol to look at you, my tummy churning. You had broken a snooker poker into two pieces, and dropped it on the ground. You made a little wave at me to follow you without looking back at me. It made me feel like a dog, somehow, having to follow after you, too afraid to disobey and too scared because I didn't want to see what Gambol's thugs would do.

"Make it fast."

* * *

You ate like a rabid animal that had been starved for days. And that's putting it nicely. You shovelled the spaghetti into your mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it. The tomato juice dribbled down your chin like blood, and I found myself suddenly losing my appetite. I pushed the food around my plate, more interested in watching the small television in the corner of the room. It felt odd, watching the news with you. Sometimes I forgot all about the other problems in the world because life didn't feel real with you. Stabbing people, murdering people, robbing people. It felt like I was in some kind of soap opera, probably playing the evil villain.

I watched the news-reporter in her too-tight suit with her hair scraped back into a severe bun, but I wasn't fully listening to her. It was just comforting to know that the world was still out there, and to hear new voices buzzing throughout the warehouse, which was empty except for us. You had let those boys go, which surprised me. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for it. I know you threatened them and let them know if they spoke even a whisper about you, they'd regret it. And they, having seen what you did to Gambol, probably didn't doubt it. You had a glass of red wine in front of you, and so did I, but you hadn't touched yours yet.

You loved explosions – when the television showed a bomb blowing up in a distant, war-ridden country, your eyes seemed to sparkle, looking like a five-year-old in a candy shop. You liked the chaos, the panic and the fear that came with explosions and bombs. Another explosion appeared on the screen, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from it. "The world…is a crazy place," you whispered, almost in awe. You sounded proud of it, happy almost. Like you had caused all of it by yourself.

"Humans are crazy," I murmured, pushing my spaghetti around on my plate, poking at it. I had said it quietly and mainly to myself, but you heard me, of course. You actually stared at me in surprise. I never spoke unless you spoke to me directly. I suppose I was afraid of upsetting you, or saying something to unleash that nasty temper of yours. When I finally built up the courage, I looked you in the eye. You weren't angry, not in the least. You simply looked interested, maybe even a little amused, but definitely not like you were mocking me.

"Humans?" you repeated.

I took a deep breath to build up my courage, and decided to just bite the bullet. "The world isn't the problem, it's us."

"Us?" you said, like I meant just you and I.

"The human race," I replied quietly. I think that was the longest I had held eye-contact with you, and you were the first to break it, picking up your wine and taking long, ragged gulps. You finished it in seconds.

"We're animals too, you know," you said, putting your elbows on the table. You looked oddly normal – well, as normal as you could get – with your sleeves rolled up and your hair slicked back. You even looked a little tired. "Get rid of the rules and rid of the morals. Then you'll see what we're really like."

"Even with the rules and the morals, we're no better than wild animals," I said, keeping my voice quiet. You were swirling the empty glass in your hands, observing me silently. I didn't want to anger you, but I was tired of being afraid. "Just because the laws exist doesn't mean we follow them. Everyone lies, and they all commit crimes whether they like to admit it or not."

I felt braver, and maybe it was the wine that had helped me, but I felt the need to ask. "How did you become so…fearless? Someone could stab you, beat you or hold a gun to your head and all you do is laugh about it. Why?"

When I stayed silent, you observed me for a moment before you continued, "Lemme give you a little uh… advice, Ruby Red. If you find yourself being interrogated-…" - you ignored the way I shifted uncomfortably in my seat – "…and they try to torture you, you do not give in. Because they can give you scars or make you feel more pain than you've ever felt in your life, but that is all it is – pain. Pain, it's nothing. But what matters is not letting them get in here." You tapped your temple and grinned knowingly. "They can hurt you, but it's getting inside your mind that counts. _Getting under someone's skin_. That's how you win. You gotta play them at their own game. And you know how much I love games."

I thought about what you said, before I replied, "I still don't think I could kill someone. Killing is-…"

"Don't talk like them," you hissed, and my tummy clenched, thinking you were angry. You leaned closer to me, your eyes almost pleading. "Don't talk like your parents. They drilled that into you. Your father, the great military man, he taught you right from wrong, but when it comes to war he can put a bullet between the enemy's eyes and it isn't considered murder because it was _for his country_. A life suddenly becomes less important because they don't believe in what you believe in. You could murder a million people and they'd call you a hero, because they were the enemy. That makes it alright. But if you aren't a soldier and you aren't in a war, killing suddenly becomes wrong and morals come into play. You thought you parents were hypocrites for believing that it was okay to murder as long as it was on their terms. Don't deny it. Anyone can be a killer Ruby. Even you. Humans created morals. If you were raised to believe that killing was right, you wouldn't think twice about it, would you?"

"No, but-…"

"But _nothing_. It just so happens that killing is supposed to be wrong," you said. "And why do you believe that? Because you were_ told_ it was wrong. By people who were told the same thing. See, Ruby, I see things a little differently. I think – no, I know that if society were to collapse tomorrow, it wouldn't take long before the so-called _sophisticated_ and _civilized_ beings of the world would eat each other alive."

You had finished eating, and threw your fork onto your plate with a clatter. It echoed throughout the warehouse. For a few minutes, we were silent. You were deep in your own thoughts again, a frown on your face as your eyebrows drew together. You leaned back in your chair, but tapped the table in a steady rhythm with your hand.

"Everyone seems so content with pretending the world is a happy place," you murmured quietly. "As if locking up the baddies in one big Jack-in-the-Box means they'll go away forever. But it doesn't work like that. You can't lock them up forever. Sooner or later, Jack will get out of that box, and boy will he be mad." You dragged out the last word in a deep, husky and low voice. You let the legs of your chair fall to the floor again with a bang, ceasing your tapping against the table and staring at me solemnly. "I'm gonna show them that the world isn't something you can control. One way or the other, the bad guys always win. No one remembers the heroes, you know. Not when they're dead."

"Batman, you mean," I said, and held my breath as you narrowed your eyes at me and smiled.

"Yeah. The _Batman_," you sneered, like his very name was a joke to you.

"And what about Batman?" I asked curiously.

"What about him?"

"What do you think about him? If he died, do you think no one in Gotham will bother remembering a man who saves so many lives, who stops the bad guys?"

"Oh, they'd remember him alright. Until I blow up another building. Until I threaten another important political figure. Until I kill someone. Then, with Batman dead and buried, they'd probably curse him for abandoning Gotham in its hour of need," you smirked. "Because they're greedy. They want everything to be done for them. They wouldn't mourn Batman, oh no, they'd be looking for another hero to save the day, because they only want to save their own skin. Now me, I'm not afraid to die. Not like these spineless cowards that call themselves criminals."

"If you don't care about dying-…"

"Why should I play the Roman fool and die on mine own sword?"

"Quoting _Macbeth _doesn't explain anything," I frowned, seeing as you didn't even let me finish my question. I ignored the fact that I had studied _Macbeth _when I was in high-school and you specifically chose to quote it.

"Very good Ruby, but what I said has a point. Just because I am not afraid to die doesn't mean I'll try to play with a gun and decide to shoot myself in the head. No, that isn't enough. You gotta go in a blaze of glory, and if I have to take half of Gotham with me, so be it. I _refuse _to die until I finish what I set out to do. And Batman has one rule. He doesn't kill people, because he has that same misplaced sense of morals that you have too. And like you, he'll realize that his rule has to be broken sometime. It doesn't matter if it's tomorrow or in a year, he'll realize it. Then, when he figures that out, he'll figure out that that as soon as the chips are down, the civilians of Gotham will turn into savage dogs, ready to eat him alive. You agree with me Ruby. I know, deep down, that you understand. Even if you can't see it now, you will. Because I'm going to _show _you."

Then you left me sitting there all alone, just to think about the silent threat behind your words.


	11. A Bird Went In Search of a Cage

**A/N: **_Well, here it is! :) I updated as quickly as I could, and if you find yourself confused by the end of this, don't worry, it's just the Joker's plan ;) You'll find out what he's up to eventually :)_

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_-** Chapter Eleven - **_

_A Bird Went In Search of a Cage_

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It felt as if I were a bird cooped up in a cage, trapped behind bars. All alone with nothing but my thoughts, because usually I didn't know where you were. You did that sometimes. You would disappear for hours without a word, and appear again as if you had never left. I don't think I _wanted _to really know where you were going, especially when you came home one time with spots of blood on your lilac shirt, and I was quite certain it wasn't yours. One night, I sat watching the television all alone in my room. You left for a very long time, and I curled up into a ball watching a very corny, cheesy kind of romance. I didn't want to watch the news. I was afraid that the only thing I would see was the CCTV footage of the robbery, of the police asking for any witnesses to come forward because they desperately wanted to put me behind bars. I imagined what would happen if they found me with you, and split us up, and didn't listen to me. I felt tears burning behind my eyes whenever I thought about being carried away by large, burly guards who wouldn't believe me when I said that you took me by force, that I didn't _want _to go with you in the first place.

I imagined having to stand in a court-room, in front of all the hateful glares of the jury and the judge and all the hostages we had held. I thought that the Judge, who seemed to loom over me, would simply sentence me to life, or maybe even the Chair. Hell, she might even fling me into an asylum with you, forever destined to be locked in a strait-jacket in a joint padded-cell with you. The imagination can create some horrible things, you know. Crazy, frightening things that only made me want to hide beneath my blanket even more. I had nightmares, too. Nightmares in which Mr Roberts was lying on the floor of the bank, dying, crying out for me to help him and I wasn't be able to do anything.

Other times I dreamt that I was wearing that mask from the robbery, and I _chose _not to save his life. I chose to take your hand, laughing and joking with you as we climbed into that yellow bus, while Mr Roberts lay dying with no one to help him, and I would wake up in a cold sweat, my heart thumping in my chest. I screamed in my sleep once, and you woke me up. You shook me, told me I was dreaming and not to worry. Then you'd go back to your own room, and I would lie awake for a few hours, too afraid to fall asleep again.

The television gave the room an eerie glow, the light flickering and casting a blue hue across my room. You know what I felt grateful for the most was the fact that you had gotten me some pyjamas. Pink ones, with penguins all over them. You had taken them from my old bedroom, along with most of my clothes. I know because Karla bought them for me nearly a year ago for Christmas.

She sent a card, telling me she missed me and that she was so sorry she couldn't visit, but I just _couldn't _understand the immense pressure her poor husband Henry was under. And that was okay, at first, because I thought Violet would visit, but she sent me a message to say that she had made plans to attend Alex's, her husband, work party. She said she was sorry that it was the second year she had missed Christmas with me, but that Alex had made a promise to his boss that he couldn't break, and she'd try to make it some other time.

I shook my head, trying not to think of my sisters in a bad way, like you wanted me to. I didn't want you to brainwash me. Another reason I didn't want to turn the news on was because I was afraid they thought I was dead. I thought that the news-reporter – probably the lady with a little too much cleavage on display – would say that I was missing, presumed dead. Maybe they thought you had killed me and rolled me into a ditch someplace, left to rot. I felt even worse, until I heard a loud _bang _all of a sudden. I heard your voice, dark and dangerous, ring throughout the warehouse, "_Honey_, I'm _home_!"

My heart clenched, and my throat seemed to tighten. You were home alright. I heard your boots hit the floor with every slow, tummy-twisting step. I straightened up, putting my back against the wall. I suppose I thought that at least that way I would see you coming, that I wouldn't have to worry about you sneaking up on me or something. I gripped my bed-sheets in my hands. I hated the waiting most of all. The horrible, heart-racking _fear _that made my blood pound, just _waiting _for you. Then, when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, my bedroom door slammed open, and you stood there, half-slouched.

Your black eyes pierced me even though you stood motionless at the doorway. I saw the sawn-off shot-gun in your hands, and felt like I would cry. Your other hand was clenched into a fist, and you were soaking. It must have been raining out, as heavy as a thunderstorm, because little droplets of rain dripped from your coat onto the floor. You stood there for so long a small puddle had formed at your feet. You smoothed your hair back, your tongue darting out like a snake's again. "Hello _honey_. Did you _miss_ me?"

You swaggered towards me, your boots hitting the floor with a clang. When you finally stopped, standing right in front of me, you shook your head like a wet dog to shake all the water off. I felt it hit my skin, just before you grabbed me by my silly penguin pyjamas and put that gun to my head with a smile on your face. You pressed it hard against my temple, shoving me against the wall roughly with your own body weight, trapping me there. My feet didn't even touch the ground, because you were much taller than me. You looked so angry, baring your teeth in a snarl.

"You wanna know what I _hate_, Red?" you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I hate _liars_. I hate the pretenders, who try to be something they're _not_. 'Cause if you're gonna do something, you better do it _right_, you know what I mean?"

No, I didn't know. In fact, I was baffled by you. You had seemed to be in good spirits earlier, at least as good as it could get without violence or bombs being involved. You let me go, and my feet hit the ground, but you didn't move away from me. If anything, you towered over me breathing heavily, still soaking wet and obviously trying to get a grip on your temper. But I saw that flicker in your eye, and even if you thought you knew me better than I knew you – and you did - I had learned that that little flicker meant you were planning something. I might not know every detail of your life, but I was beginning to pick up on your habits.

You grabbed my hair in a flash, winding me as you dragged me into the hallway. My scalp burned, but you didn't let go until you had pulled me into a new room I had never been in before. It was a bedroom – yours, I think. It must have been. There was a mattress on the floor like mine, a wardrobe, a table and chair, and a mirror propped on top of the table. For a moment I wondered if you ever spent much time looking at yourself in that mirror, but you were already pushing me to sit in the small wooden chair as soon as you had finished closing the door behind us. I sat down, with my back rigidly straight because I was too nervous and frightened to do anything else.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, and when I glanced at myself in the mirror, I felt pitiful for it. My scalp felt like you had ripped it clean off, seeing as you had yanked so hard on it to drag me here. My neck ached from where you had gripped it, and I wiped my cheeks furiously, determined not to give in. I used the mirror to watch you, rather than turn around. You looked demented, flinging the wardrobe doors open and throwing the clothes wildly on the floor. They were all bright and patterned, mainly either green and purple. I wasn't sure what you were doing, until you grabbed a cardboard shoebox.

You stomped over to me, throwing the box onto the table beside us. You threw the lid off carelessly, revealing silver tins inside. I watched you with confused eyes, wondering what had made you so angry.

You opened one tin, barely showing the bright white paint inside before you smeared it on my face – you weren't exactly gentle about it either, it felt like sandpaper rubbing on my skin. But then, when you had finished with that, you picked another tin which held black paint inside it. You put this around my eyes far more carefully. By the time you opened the blood-red paint and put that on my lips, you were sticking your tongue out with concentration, like an artist completing his masterpiece. You dragged the red paint along my cheeks, too, to make it look like I had scars like yours. You leaned back on your heels when you had finished, observing me. "Perfect," you whispered, grinning.

You weren't finished yet. You found a tin with gooey green gel inside, and smeared it into my hair. I hated how it made it stick to my skin. I thought it was grease in your hair, but you must've used that green gel on your own hair too. Your hair was dyed green anyway, but the gooey gel only made it look brighter. My hair was naturally a sandy brown colour, but the gel made my own hair look like it had green streaks. It was also just below my shoulders, but that gel made it look much shorter and scrunched. It would stick to my painted face, too, which bugged me, but I had little time to think about it, because you made me stand up. Remember when you made me put on that bomb, and I had to undress in front of the now deceased Happy and Dopey? Well, I felt much worse getting dressed when it was just _you _watching me, rather than two other people in the room.

But you weren't ogling me like I expected you to, like the creepy perverted serial killers normally do in the horror films. Instead you were deciding which outfit would work best. You found a pair of purple pants, and then a lilac shirt with a green waistcoat. It took me a moment to realize it was an exact replica of what you were wearing too. You put a tie around my collar, and then put a large, heavy purple trench-coat on me. The sleeves drooped off my arms, and you had to pin them back. I was surprised when you stitched the sleeves back with ease, and I figured you must make your own clothes often.

I tried not to giggle when I imagined you sewing and knitting, instantly thinking of the horrible, ugly sweaters my Gran tried to make when we were younger. You made me face the mirror, standing beside me with an excited look on your face. I looked just like you- albeit with a more feminine frame.

I felt quite miserable, watching you pull a lot of weapons from the wardrobe. You stuffed countless amounts of knives into the various pockets of your own purple coat, which looked the same as mine, even throwing a gun into your left pocket. "Go to the van," you ordered, and I hesitated for a moment too long, because you narrowed your eyes and bared your teeth in that snarl again. "_Now._"

Well, that told me. I edged out of the room, leaving you to deal with the mess on the floor, walking in the direction of the van. I knew which way to go, despite the countless doors. I wondered what was behind them all. There had to be _something _behind them. A way out, maybe. Just when I was considering checking, I heard the heavy sound of your boots hitting the floor behind me. You had caught up swiftly, like you had read my mind. You threw your arm around my shoulder, a bright grin on your face. You had touched up your own make-up too, I could tell.

"Now the fun _really _begins!"


	12. The Wolves

**A/N: **_Well, I managed to put in one of his actual quotes from the movie in this near the end (yay) and I hope you guys like this chapter because I had to rewrite it a lot! I've been sick lately too so it seemed to take even longer, but oh well it's done now! Yay! And this is especially dedicated to_ _**Rehaniah **__who gave me one of the nicest reviews I've ever gotten! Thank you for all the reviews, guys :)_

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**Chapter Twelve – **_The Wolves_

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You left me alone in an alleyway, simply turning on your heels and marching out of there. I heard the sound of the van screeching against the road, and stood with my mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. I stood in the blisteringly cold wind and the rain stinging my skin, waiting for you to come back to me. Isn't it funny, how I felt like a child that had been brutally abandoned by its mother? I shivered, glancing around nervously. The heavy, thundery rain made my hair stick to my skin, and I had to push it from my eyes every few moments. I took shaky, deep breaths while I though about what to do. It wasn't a very nice neighbourhood. Loud, angry music came thumping from a nearby apartment. There was a loud bang and crash, followed by shouting from a man and woman, before they were drowned out by the music being turned up even louder.

Had you really just left me? Or were you testing me, waiting to see if I'd make a dash for it?

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I muttered furiously to myself, kicking my reflection in a puddle beneath me. "You'd like it if I walked right on out of here, just so you could grab me and pull me in again. Well, I'm not falling for it. I'm not playing your little game."

I did glance wistfully out at the street though, wondering if I should at least try. The alleyway had rubbish strewn all over it, and there were shards of glass glittering on the ground, half-broken bottles lying nearby. A few black rubbish bags were resting against the walls, some half torn open with what looked like clothes spilling out. I saw a purple shirt that reminded me of you.

A sudden anger bubbled within me. I punched the wall beside me, imitating your voice as I yelled, "_I'm the Joker, and I think I can just kidnap whoever I like. I think I can ask them to trust me, and then just_ _abandon them in an alleyway whenever I feel like it. I'll mess with Ruby's mind because after all, it's just one_" – I punched the wall again – "_big_" – another punch – "_**joke**_!"

I'm quite sure talking to myself while standing in a dark alleyway in the pouring rain, dressed as a clown and imitating the voice of your kidnapper meant I had really lost my mind. Only, I didn't really care if I had or not. I didn't care about anything anymore. I just wanted you to come back and stop playing these games. I wasn't a toy. I ignored the burning sensation in my hand, cradling it with my other hand. I hated how you made me feel. I hated how you made me hate myself for missing you, for wanting you to come back just because I didn't know where I was, or where I should go. I hated that, because it meant I felt…_attached_ to you, in some small way. Like I couldn't even take a couple of steps out of an alleyway without worrying about what you would do.

Well, forget about it. I wasn't going to wait around for you. I began a defiant march towards the street, feeling quite pleased with myself. I wasn't going to stand in the cold and the rain like some lost, abandoned puppy. If you were hiding outside, testing me like I thought you were, then at least I would know. Standing there like an idiot wouldn't do anything to help, would it? I repeated that again, and again, and again in my head as I took those steps, ignoring how only moments ago I had vowed not to leave. I stood on the sidewalk, observing the street around me with a silly grin on my face, feeling proud. I had done it, and you weren't lying in wait, either. If I could only find someone to help, then maybe –

Before I could even think about taking another step towards freedom, an arm wrapped around my waist and I felt a sharp, jolting pain before I was slammed back into the alleyway, thrown onto the hard, concrete ground. I hit my head, and everything was a little fuzzy for a moment, until I felt someone sit on top of me. In the dark light, I thought it was you, and that you were going to kill me. I felt that fuzziness that I had felt when you drugged me in the café, vaguely feeling bile rising in my throat. I opened my eyes in a daze, realizing dimly that it wasn't you sitting on top of me at all – it was Batman!

Slightly dizzy and a little out of it, I almost cried with happiness, ignoring the sticky blood that ran down my forehead. Who cared about a bump on the head when Batman was here to save me?

Or at least, I thought he was, until he punched me with all his might. That certainly knocked the '_he's-my-hero!_' hope out of me. I noticed something else, too. Either it was my frazzled imagination, or Batman had had one too many beers lately, because he seemed a lot heavier than I thought he would be. He held me down by my wrists, crushing my ribs beneath his heavy weight. He really thought I was you, and he held a knife to my throat. Well, I thought it would be obvious by now I wasn't actually the Joker, because if he thought a simple knife would be enough to take you down, then _he _was the crazy one.

I glanced downwards in the hopes of seeing a knife, but saw something else instead.

"Are you…Are you wearing _hockey pants_?" I asked, my hopes of being rescued draining out of me in an instant. I almost laughed, because _of course _I couldn't be lucky enough to actually be saved, but he didn't see the funny side. He didn't even crack a smile – instead, he punched me again. This wasn't Batman. My second thought was that it was you, playing another trick on me. He weighed a little too much to be you, too, unless you had actually hired someone to dress up as him to scare me – and that isn't very hard to believe. But it wasn't you, and it wasn't Batman. He wasn't my saviour. He couldn't help me at all. And judging by the hockey pants, I was in for another rough night.

But it seemed I had another knight in shining armour, who came dressed as a clown. One moment, Batman was crushing me, and the next you had appeared behind him. In one swift movement, you had picked him up and – gripping his mask tightly – slammed him head-first into a wall.

You weren't finished yet. You held the sawn-off shot-gun in your hands, but you didn't shoot him. I suppose that was too easy for you, too quick. Instead, you began viciously beating him with all your strength. You looked like a man possessed, grunting and growling as you used the gun to beat him, again and again, over and over. Batman – or rather, the Fake Batman – was cowering with his arms above his head to protect himself, but that would never work. I sat up dizzily, my chest burning and my head stinging. I touched my forehead tenderly, wincing slightly. My blood had mixed with your white face paint, and the pinkish colour stained my fingertips. My eye felt as if it was swelling up, but that wasn't the worst part, not by a long shot.

He stabbed me, and I hadn't even realized until I felt the warm blood seeping into my lilac shirt.

That was the pain I had felt when he grabbed me by my waist, only the adrenaline and the fear had blocked it out. How could I not have felt that? I leaned against the brick wall behind me, lifting my shirt. He had stabbed me in the side, and it hurt so badly that hot tears ran down my cheeks. I heard your voice, glancing up to see you holding Fake Batman by his collar, roaring into his face, but I couldn't understand your words. I had never been so frightened in my life, even when the bomb had been wrapped around my chest, because it hadn't hurt as much as my side did now.

"Joker?" I called out. Fake Batman had blood trickling down his nose, but his bewildered eyes met mine. He had heard me before you did. "Joker!"

Your head snapped towards me, a look of surprise in your eyes. I saw the anger flash in your eyes momentarily, as if I was interrupting something very important. I thought you would turn on me instead, but your eyes drifted down to my stomach when you noticed the blood. I saw that furious spark in your eyes vanish, replaced with confusion, before you understood what had happened. You mouthed something that looked curiously like, "Fuck". You threw Fake Batman onto the ground, giving him a harsh kick in the stomach.

He spluttered, clutching at the ground.

"Give. Me. Your. Knife. _Now_."

Batman made the horrible mistake of refusing to do as you asked. With that superhuman strength of yours, you launched yourself at him like a rabid dog, sitting on top of him like he had done to me moments before, hitting and punching him as hard as you could. It seemed endless, until you searched his pockets yourself and found the knife, holding it up for inspection. I saw your jaw tense as you tightened your hand around it. You ran it along his swollen cheek slowly. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with _knives_?"

"I'm not afraid of you!" Batman hissed, and he made another terrible mistake. He _spat _at you. You froze, narrowing your eyes at him.

"You're gonna regret that," you said, in that low and husky tone. "You're _really _gonna regret that."

You punched him one more time, and his head hit the ground, hard. I knew how that felt, and I watched Batman lay motionless on the ground, his eyes half-open. I thought he might be dead, but he let out a soft groan of pain when you gave him one last kick. You stood up and turned to me, the anger fading away. I rested my head against the wall, watching you as you came towards me like you didn't want to frighten me or something. You bent down beside me, lifting my shirt and observing the wound, chewing your lower lip in concentration. "Are you scared?" you asked, glancing up at me.

"A little." I wasn't going to lie to you, and say that I was perfectly fine, because you would see right through me. You always did. I thought joking with you would be better. "If I die in a place like this, I-…"

"You're not gonna die," you replied sharply, obviously un-amused. "Don't joke about that. I can stitch this up, it's just-…you need to wait here."

"You're leaving again?"

A sudden panic filled me, thinking about how I would feel in the alleyway while you were gone, bleeding and alone. Why couldn't the real Batman turn up right about now? My heart was thudding, my side burning. I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth.

"Not for long. I won't leave you to the wolves," you promised gravely. "I need to take care of…._him_. Then, I'll come back for you. And we'll fix this. I promise. I'm a man of my word, Ruby."

You stood, marching over to Batman. You had to drag him, pulling him out of the alleyway like a limp rag-doll. _I won't leave you to the wolves. _If that was supposed to reassure me somehow, I must say that it really, _really _didn't work.


	13. Stitches

**A/N: **_I apologize for the late update, I've just finished doing a bunch of tests, so I was a bit busy with study and stuff, but here it is! :) Thanks for waiting, I'm really, really sorry!_

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_-_ **Chapter Thirteen - **

_Stitches_**  
**

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Once, when I was around six and Violet was ten, she climbed a tree in our backyard even though my mother told her not to. Violet was a good climber for someone who was a girly-girl and hated to get dirty, but it had been raining that day, and she lost her grip. She hit the ground, and I can distinctly remember that _thud_, and the deafening silence that followed when she lay motionless on the ground and I thought my sister was dead. She lay face down in the slightly muddy ground, her eyes closed and her arm twisted at a horribly mangled angle. I remember staring at her, feeling as if my whole world had collapsed around me until I heard my mother's petrified, shrill voice as she screamed, "Oh my God, _Violet! _Alex, Alex get out here, something's happened!"

My dad came rushing out of that house in a flash, pushing past me to pick Violet up, checking her pulse because she wouldn't answer my mother's desperate calls. Karla came out onto the porch, her eyes wide in fear, and I didn't really know what to do. I imagined my mother blaming me for Violet dying because I had let her climb that tree, I hadn't tried to stop her. Only it seemed like my mother forgot I was there, in her panic to make sure Violet was breathing. She left Karla and I to be looked after by our neighbour, whose house smelled like cinnamon and cigarette smoke until, finally, when I was just imaging how the police would knock on our door to arrest me because I had let my sister die, my mom and dad came home, with a smiling Violet standing between them with a pink cast on her arm.

Everything was okay for a while after that, even though we moved from that house soon afterwards – to a house with no trees in the back garden – and I was just happy Violet was alive. I only thought about this when I was lying alone in the alleyway, and I remembered how terrified I was that day, and how I wanted my sister to be safe and to able to tell her I was sorry. I didn't make her climb that tree, I know, but seeing her unconscious on the ground with a broken arm, and the fear in my mother's voice was awful. I wish someone would find me in this alleyway, and panic and call for help, because I really was beginning to think you had left me forever.

That you'd flung Fake Batman into the back of the van and driven off, laughing madly and feeling proud that you had gotten rid of me because I was of no use anymore. I was afraid that I was dying because I wasn't in any pain anymore – I felt numb. My limbs were shaky, sweat on my forehead, my eyes slowly closing. It was still raining, but it was eerily quiet other than that. Like the whole world had gone silent. Until, that is, I heard the sound of boots splashing against the puddles somewhere in front of me. From the sound of it, you were running.

I heard a rustling sound, before I felt a sharp slap across my cheek. I hissed in pain, and heard you sigh in relief. "Good. You aren't dead. You scared me there," you muttered, and you let out a shaky, deranged laugh. Was it my half-dead ears deceiving me, or did you sound _worried_? Frightened, even? "Red? Come on Red, look at me."

I did my best to do as you asked. You looked into my half-open eyes and cursed. "Okay, okay, okay…I'm gonna have to lift you, and we're gonna have to walk very, very slowly to the van and it's gonna hurt like Hell, Ruby. Do you understand?"

Seemed pretty easy to me. I nodded, and you gently made me dangle my arm around your shoulder and put arm around my waist. "Okay. One…two…_three_!"

I cried out as you lifted me, pain suddenly flaring in my stomach. Looks like I wasn't so numb after all. You said nothing, only bit your lip as I gritted my teeth. "Tell me when you're ready to go," you said quietly. I saw anger in your eyes, but it wasn't directed at me. It was at Fake Batman, I think. I took a deep, shaky breath before I whispered, "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

We took a few steps, before you'd let me stop to catch my breath. I don't know what I expected you to be like, but when you gave my back a little pat in a sort of 'You-Can-Do-It-Ruby' way, I was surprised by your kindness, the way you were so patient. I suppose whenever I saw you in the media, you were always blowing things up and destroying things. I didn't think I'd ever get used to seeing you acting kind. When I saw that van, I almost cried with happiness. When we finally made it, you had to prop me against the van while you opened the door. You helped me in slowly, very carefully, making sure the seatbelt wasn't touching my wound or pressing against it.

You kissed my forehead – I remember that, though I think you thought I wouldn't, because I was in a daze, only half-awake. You got into your own seat, and began driving wildly once again. We turned a corner, and even with my seatbelt on, I slammed into the window. It didn't really matter anyway. I could barely feel anything. I was numb again. You had to shake me at least three times, barking my name in order to wake me up. I didn't even realize we had stopped until my door opened and you were pulling me out. We left Fake Batman alone in the van.

"Ruby, come on, _work _with me here," you muttered, practically dragging me.

"Oh sorry…didn't realize being…stabbed made me such a…burden," I huffed. "Maybe you should've just…left me there, huh?"

"I would never leave you," you growled angrily, kicking my bedroom door open. "Never, so don't even say it!"

You helped me on the mattress, lying me down. I felt like curling up and going to sleep, but you said, "Keep your eyes _open_, Ruby. I mean it. If you close them, you might not wake up again. You can sleep in a few moments, I promise, but you have to _wait_ until I stitch you _up_" you explained, giving the 'p' a little pop at the end. "I'm gonna make the pain go away, okay?"

You turned on your heels, marching out of the room. I heard the distant sound of you searching through the drawers in your bedroom, probably knocking over everything and throwing those tins of face paint everywhere. When you eventually came back into the room, you quickly made your way over to me, dropping to my side. You held up a needle and black thread, a basin with steaming water rising from it and a rag inside it, and a little cup. I took one look at you and let my head hit my pillow in defeat. "Why me?" I muttered.

"What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" I repeated furiously, lifting my head – which was a mistake, your face blurred and I became dizzy. "You're going to '_stitch me up_' ….with a fucking _needle and thread _you found in a box in your room! I could _die_, are you… fucking _kidding _me, you moron!"

You were ignoring me entirely as I cursed at you, until I saw you dip the needle into the cup. "What's that?" I asked, pausing in my rant.

"Alcohol. Sterilize the needle. I've done this a thousand times before. I've had to do it after fights, especially the ones with the Batman. I know what I am doing. Just trust me."

"You keep saying that, and look where's it got us."

"You aren't dead," you reasoned.

"Yet."

"You're feisty when you're nearly dying, you know that? A little…_out-spoken_, too."

"I have my moments."

You looped the thread through the needle, and then focused on pulling up my shirt. My blood made it very difficult to peel away without causing me to shriek in pain. You were as gentle as you could possibly be, always full of surprises. You had to used the warm, damp rag to wipe as much blood away as you could. When it was finally over and done with, it was time to 'stitch me up' as you so blatantly put it. You took off your jacket, rolling up your sleeves. Some of my blood was on your hands. I felt dizzy just looking at it. "This will hurt."

"Don't…Don't you have anything….to block out the pain?"

You thought about it, before you handed me the cup of alcohol. I took it from you and gulped it back in one go. Better than nothing. I think it was vodka. I would've asked, only you made me lie back down. "Here we go." I thought you would give me some kind of warning other than that, maybe count down from three like you had done before, but instead you plunged the needle into my skin. I grunted in pain, gripping your jacket which lay beside the bed. I wished, desperately, that you would've brought me to a hospital instead, because maybe they could've knocked me out and spared me an immense amount of pain.

"Ruby, you need to stop moving."

"It's a bit difficult," I hissed.

"I'm nearly finished."

I could barely hear you anymore. My eyes were drifting shut, but you didn't tell me to stay awake anymore. I felt myself drifting off, unable to fight it anymore.

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When I woke up, you were asleep beside me. You hadn't left me after all. I felt my side tenderly, lifting my shirt. You had done the best you could with what you had, and a jagged wound sown up with black thread greeted me. It would scar, leaving that mark on me forever. I lay back down on my bed, and I watched your own scars for a while. You always looked so…_normal _when you slept. You weren't sleeping on the mattress with me either, you were on the cold concrete ground. You wanna know something funny? You snore. A lot. But even over the sound of you snoring, I heard the yelling.

I tried to sit up, hissing with pain. I took a deep breath, standing on shaky feet. I almost fell again, but I caught myself in time. When I made it to the door, I glanced back at your sleeping form. I knew who was yelling – our own version of Batman. He was alive. I wanted to talk to him. I didn't know what I would say, but I just wanted to speak to someone _new_. I followed to the sound of his yelling until I made it to the part of the warehouse where meat and other canned food was stored. It was always cold in there. You never let me cook. Either you thought I would try to poison you, or you just thought my food was terrible. Whatever the reason, you always cooked our meals.

He was chained up, his head drooping onto his chest. He heard the sound of the door shutting softly behind me, and his head snapped towards me. He obviously thought it would be you. His eyes trailed to my tummy, where my shirt was entirely stained with my own blood. I had to lean against the wall, not trusting myself to stand for too long. My body was shaking, a dull throbbing running through my stomach. We were just staring at each. He was a little worse for wear. You had beat him again. I knew it, because blood was dripping from his nose and his mouth. Although I felt sorry for the guy, I thought he should have known better than to try to track you down. You loved violence – you would use him as your own little punching bag, I knew that much.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He was watching me like a hawk, as if he thought I was tricking him. That was probably the look I gave you whenever you asked me a question like that. "I'm fine," he replied gruffly, though he very clearly wasn't. "What about you?"

I lifted my shirt, smiling a little. "Fine," I replied.

"Did he do that?" he asked, his eyes darting towards the door behind me as if I wouldn't realize who he meant.

"Yeah….yeah, he did."

"I'm sorry. When we were in that alleyway…in the dark I…I thought it was him. I thought you were the Joker…and…Well, I'm sorry," he whispered. "He dressed you up like him, knowing I'd attack you in the dark like that…sick bastard."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "He didn't…I mean, I don't think he-…"

"Are you _defending _him?" Fake Batman asked, and his tone made my heart clench. I felt my cheeks redden. "He really has gotten to you, hasn't he? Look, we can still get out of this if-…"

His voice was cut off when the door swung open, and you stood there, your black eyes darting between us before you finally focused solely on me. You held something in your hands, but you hid it behind your back. "You really shouldn't wander off, Ruby. Not in your…_condition_."

You grabbed my arm, pulling me towards you. I lost my balance, you caught me, and you pulled me into the hallway. I was dizzy all over again, everything blurring again. You shook me and pointed something at me. When I focused on it, I realized it was…a video-camera. Why the Hell did you have that? And where did you even get it?

"Look-y what I found!"

The little red light was flickering. "Are you _recording _me?"

"What's the matter? You look _beaut-i-ful_." You motioned to my stomach. "Maybe I'll start calling you Stitches now, huh?"

I pulled away from the camera lens, wanting to hide my face, but your hand wrapped around my wrist and pulled it down to my side so I couldn't hide anymore. You were grinning, baring your teeth.

"Now, you're gonna go back to bed. And I'm gonna deal with our little friend in there, okay?"

"What do you mean?" I whispered, gripping your arms when my legs felt like jelly again. "Are you going to kill him?"

You grinned. "Oh I can't tell you yet, that would be spoiling the _fun_. And you wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

I saw that look in your eye, the bloodthirsty kind of look. Batman was in for a world of pain. He had no idea who much you love violence, how much you would _enjoy _it.

"Say _hi_ to the camera Ruby, the folks at home are _waiiiiting_!" you sang. "They want a _show_. And I'm gonna give 'em one."


	14. Mental Boy

**A/N:** _Put down those pitchforks ladies and gentlemen because I have two reasons as to why I haven't been able to update lately - firstly, this chapter was a nightmare because I kept re-writing it again and again and didn't want to post it until I was happy with it...and secondly I had no internet for a while, so I am very, very sorry and if you still want to burn me at the stake then you have every right to do so (I'm kidding, I'd rather not burn at the stake..) So here it is! :) And if any of you have seen the movie American Beauty (one of my favourites) you'll know this chapter is named after an amazing piece of music on the soundtrack! :) _

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_Chapter Fourteen_ - _**Mental Boy**_

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I lay on the mattress, a dull throbbing kind of ache burning in my stitches, staring blankly at my ceiling. I didn't know where you were, or what you were doing. I wasn't sure I _wanted _to know. Fake Batman had stopped his screaming and his yelling hours ago, but it still felt as if his voice was echoing around my brain. A tear trickled down my cheek just thinking about him. What if he had a wife, or even kids? I wiped away the tear with the back of my hand, and sat up a little. You had given me a very loose, baggy t-shirt that was three times my size because, in your own words, "It won't rub against your stitches, and that's all we need to worry about." I suppose you really weren't kidding when you said you had to stitch yourself up after your fights with Batman. I dared myself to carefully lift my bandages, and let out a dry sob at the sight of the jagged scar you had stitched for me.

"You shouldn't worry about. I still think you look _beaut-_i-ful, Ruby."

My head snapped to look at you, dropping my shirt in a flash and feeling horribly exposed. You always managed to surprise me. I don't know how you were so agile and stealthy, what with those chunky black army boots you sometimes wore. Other times you were polished, fancy shoes. Apparently you were a stylish man, when you weren't trying to destroy Gotham. My cheeks were burning an embarrassingly beetroot red colour, and I flopped back into my bed and threw my bed-sheets over my face. I heard you chuckle, and hoped you were in a good mood. With your mood swings, I never knew what was coming next.

You changed your personality constantly. One moment, you were relaxed and happy, like you were now. You were like any other guy I knew, and within a flash you could transform into a vicious psychopath. For now, however, you were like an eager little puppy, flopping happily onto my mattress. I still had my face hidden from you, until I heard the sound of something ripping in half. Curiously, I sat up and leaned against the wall, watching you stuffing your face with a McDonalds burger.

You threw a bag onto my lap, and when I simply stared at it for a moment, you looked at me with a smirk. "This stuff is just processed, not poisonous, Red."

"Just checking."

You rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, your body would be out in that dumpster in the alleyway by now."

"No, it wouldn't," I muttered to myself, but of course you heard me.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah, what makes you say that?"

"Not creative enough for you." I grabbed a burger from the bag you had given me, ignoring your laughter and lifted the bun.

"There's no mustard or anything. I know you hate it."

My tummy twisted nauseously, wondering how you could have learned that about me. I said nothing, and took a bite. You handed me a drink, which I took gratefully. Being stabbed takes its toll on you, you know, makes you appreciate these things a little bit more. You ate like a rabid animal just like you always did, barely pausing to chew, not even bothering to close your mouth properly most of the time. I was far more careful. You had eaten almost three burgers by the time I had finished my very first one. Isn't it weird, how normal we must have looked, if you ignored the war-paint on your face. Just two people, eating junk food. Nothing dangerous. No criminal activity. Well. Not _that _much.

"Did you get this yourself?" I asked suspiciously.

"What?"

"I mean…did you just walk into a nearby McDonalds and buy all this food?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I stole it," you shrugged after a moment. "Amazing what you can do with a gun."

I looked up at you in surprise, just as you shoved almost a whole packet of fries into your mouth, chewing vigorously and grinning at me. I stared at you, wondering what it must be like for the poor people who had been enjoying their meal, only to be held up by a man wearing clown make-up and holding a bloody gun. You met my gaze and rolled your eyes again.

"That was a, uh, _joke_, Ruby. Although you may not agree, I'm a little smarter than you think. Don't-cha think the police would _notice _a guy like me ordering all this food from a restaurant the moment the workers gave them details about me? I paid some kids to do it. Teenagers, actually. The good kind who don't ask questions."

I chewed my second burger very slowly, thinking this over. If those kids had seen you, spoken to you and bought food for you, would they ever think to mention you to the police? Or maybe they'd brag about it, and then the police would hear about it somehow. I knew it wouldn't happen, but I was desperate. You handed me a bag full of chips, and when I rummaged a little deeper, I found a strawberry sundae. Strawberry. My favourite flavour. I didn't even glance at you. I didn't want to know how you knew that.

My thoughts wandered back to Fake Batman again. I felt that queasy feeling in my tummy again, putting my sundae down slowly.

"What's wrong?" you asked, frowning at me, and I heard the edge to your voice.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"I…I was thinking about Fake Batman."

"Why bother, he's dead."

"You killed him?"

You nodded, shovelling more chips into your mouth. I wondered if you even had a conscience, or knew what one even _was_. "His name was Brian."

"Brian?" I repeated.

"What, you wanted someone with a more _unique _name to stab you?" you asked, and I jumped at your vicious tone. When you spoke again, you sounded much calmer, bored even. "Why do you _care _what his name was anyway?"

I shrugged, taking another bite of my burger and waiting until I had swallowed before I spoke. "He might have had a wife…or kids."

"I doubt it," you replied happily, taking a large gulp of your drink. You were the messiest eater I'd ever seen. "Otherwise he wouldn't have been out there risking his life, not if he had a family to provide for. Actually, maybe he _had _a family that he didn't really _care _about. Yeah, yeah, yeah! That's it. Like your father, the military man, always wanting to be everybody's _hero, _the knight in _shining armour._"

I averted my gaze to the floor, picking the burger apart miserably. You weren't grinning anymore, you were looking deadly serious. You licked your scars, watching me very closely.

"And what about you, Ruby?"

"What about me?"

You narrowed your eyes, and I felt that nervous feeling rushing through me again. "Tell me you were happy. Come on. Just look me in the eye, and tell me you were really _happy_. Because I don't think so. I think you hated it all. The job, the apartment, your _conceited_ sisters who only wanted to mould you into another _perfect _version of them, Red. I can make you happy. More than they could ever dream of, but you can't _see _it. You can't _see _all the things I do for _you_."

When I didn't answer you, you grabbed my chin and forced me to look at you. I felt just as powerless as the day you had strapped that bomb to my chest and walked me right into that bank.

"I do so much for you Ruby, to make you _happy _because I know you are just like _me_."

You were veering on the crazy side again, your eyes intense and dark. You let go of me, and your movements were jumpy, erratic. You licked your scars and ran your hand through your hair. Then your tongue darted out like a snake as you looked at me.

"Do you remember a man named Theo Broadman?"

I frowned as I thought about it, before it suddenly hit me that I had dated Theo months ago. It wasn't much, really. A date every second week or so for about five months, but it hadn't worked out. "Yeah…I dated him months ago before he had to move to New York."

Your laugh was deranged and you tried to contain yourself. "Yeah. New York. _Riiiiight_. That's what he _told _you."

My heart was doing little leaps in my chest, my breathing shaky. "What do you mean? Did you hurt him?"

"Maybe," you shrugged.

"Why?"

"You didn't like him. Your _sisters _liked him. They set you up, didn't they?"

That was true. Theo was good friends with Karla's husband. Which is why I had been so apprehensive about going out with him, but he could make me laugh sometimes. "Well sure but-…"

"I know you didn't like him. He gave you the creeps, with all his big-shot talk about how much _money _he made and what _car _he drove, as if it really _mattered_-ah," you growled, your voice low and husky again. These were like warning signs. You were a ticking time-bomb.

"Did you hurt him?" I asked. I sounded croaky and scared.

You didn't look at me. You were tearing up the napkins into little shreds of confetti, glaring at them. "I just made sure he wouldn't..._forget_ me."

"You made him leave!"

"Oh, right, like you would've married him," you snapped irritably. "Admit it, tell the _truth _for once Red, you _didn't** like** him_."

"Maybe you just tell yourself that," I replied, and we both froze. I clamped my hand over my mouth as if I was trying to hold back laughter, but I definitely wasn't laughing. I felt as if I would be sick, especially when you turned your head very slowly to look into my eyes. You were tensing your jaw as if you were still chewing something, but I knew you weren't. The bits of confetti still in your hands were scrunched into a tight ball.

"What did you say?"

Your voice sent shivers down my spine. I don't think I'd ever been so petrified of someone in my life, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights. "I…I didn't mean it, I just…"

"You just _what_, Ruby? Let it slip? Well, maybe you're right. Maybe you would've grown to like him, and then you'd have turned into a clone of your sisters. Bragging at those big, uh, flash _par-_ties of yours about how _wonderful _Theo is, and how _perfect _your life is, when really you _hate _yourself because you don't feel anything inside. You wake up and you simply _exist_. You'd have been his trophy wife. The beautiful little blonde on his arm, who just smiled and put on a show. You would only worry about the money, and your fancy house and your expensive car. But you wouldn't _love _him, would you Ruby?"

I glared at you as tears ran down my cheeks, thinking about all the times I had thought about all those things when I thought about my sisters. I hated their parties, and I even went to one with Theo. Perhaps you had seen me there. Maybe you saw that look of loathing and boredom on my face and decided to do something about it. I hated to admit it. They were my sisters, after all. My own flesh and blood. But then again, everyone has something they don't like about their own family, don't they? At least, I liked to tell myself that. It made me feel less guilty, I guess.

You sat beside me, resting your arms on your knees and shaking your head. I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand because I had nothing else; you had shredded all the napkins into pieces that were scattered across my bed. When I dared to look at you, I thought you looked almost…sad, I suppose. Glaring at the wall across from us, your eyes burning as you clenched and un-clenched your fists again and again.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Don't apologise for something you didn't ask for," you replied heatedly. "It's _their _fault."

I wasn't sure if you meant my sisters, or just the whole wide world beyond this warehouse. You sighed and stood up, kicking the empty bags and wrappers from my bed and marching to the door. You paused with one hand on the handle, glancing back at me.

"Face it. You loved them, but you didn't _like_ them," you finished bitterly. And I wondered if I felt the same way about you.


	15. A Painful Party

**A/N: **_To all the lovely people who reviewed, thank you so much! Your reviews are so kind, I love you guys so much :) I'm sorry I couldn't reply to the anonymous reviews because you can't send a private message, but just know that you made me so happy and I thank you so much :)_

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**- Chapter Fifteen -**

_A Painful Party_

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The strangest thing about being around a man who never feared death was how alive it made me feel sometimes. I don't know if that makes sense to you, or if I sound a little crazy (and you once told me to never be afraid of being called crazy because it means you're doing something right, something the 'sane people' can't understand and something they would never _try _to understand). If only I could put it into real words on paper, in a way that would make you _feel _the way I felt. I mean, I can say that my mind was always on, always thinking, always wondering if I would ever make it out of this alive, and I could tell you that my entire body always felt as if it was electrified from the fear of being with someone who never felt fear at all. Or at least, if you did feel it, you never showed it. I knew that the day I stopped feeling fear was the day when I really had given up. And that day was coming soon.

I can't describe how I felt when I was with you and the other bad guys. I mean, I know I make it sound as if 'the bad guys' were like those obvious villains in the old movies, where you just _knew _they weren't good news just by looking at them. I loved the classic films, and in those they always zoom in on the villain with dramatic music booming in the background so you knew they were bad. With most of the criminals I met they looked just like you and me. Well. By '_you_' I mean all those people who you pass on the street without really noticing. They blended right in, most of the time, which is the scariest thing about the bad guys. They look just like everybody else. The only thing you could never really hide, even if you took off all that war-paint, was your scars.

I was walking circles around my bedroom, just because I didn't want to lie down on that damn mattress any longer, when you burst in with a gun in one hand and a dress in the other, with something white beneath it. "Put it on, now. You have three minutes." That was all you said. You turned and walked right out again. I heard you rummage around your bedroom, tearing it apart once more, and went to pick up the dress, utterly bamboozled by you. A very beautiful, red dress with sequins on the chest. No straps. I worried about the pinch at the waist and how it might rub against my stitches, but I didn't have bothered. The white thing that you had brought in were just fresh bandages – you thought of everything.

I put the bandages on first, very carefully and slowly because every move hurt. I would hiss and grunt whenever something so much as brushed against the tender, bruised skin around my stitches, terrified something would get caught and rip them right out. I was a little paranoid, certain you wouldn't be able to sew me up a second time, if I'm honest. The dress probably cost more than my apartment, or at least it looked that way to me. I didn't want to know how you got it. Maybe you stole it. I figured that I didn't really care if you did or not, because stealing a dress was definitely not the worst thing you had ever done in your life.

Just when I had finished putting it on, you came marching back into the room again, hastily pushing bullets into a gun, which you then shoved in your pocket. "Beautiful, great, you look _great-ah_," you babbled hurriedly. "Now we gotta _go_. I'll tell you the plan in the car. Be _quick_-ah. We don't wanna be late to our own little party, now do we Red?"

* * *

"Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your bag!"

I held my breath and kept walking, just like you told me to. I held my head high and pretended I didn't hear a thing. I was just a lady walking through a hallway towards the elevator. I pushed some hair from my face, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I hated this. I hated knowing what would happen to the man when he got too close. I could hear his shoes slapping against the polished tiles against the sound of my own heels clip-clopping, but I kept my pace steady. He would catch up with me in seconds, but it would probably be too late then. He was a balding grey-haired man with a bit of a beer gut, from what I had seen when I had passed him and purposely dropped the handbag you had given me. You had already shot a man, the reason we got into the building in the first place. He looked like a waiter who had come outside to smoke, but you killed him silently to take his card and get us in. It worked. Which is why I hoped that this cop who was only trying to return my bag wouldn't have to die just for this stupid plan to work.

When I reached the corner where you turned right to reach the elevators, I felt his hand on my shoulder as he made me turn around to face him.

"You dropped your handbag, Miss," he said. When I took the bag from him, he met my gaze and I saw something flicker. He frowned, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Wait a minute, aren't you-…"

His hand quickly moved towards the walkie-talkie strapped to his belt beside his badge, but you appeared like magic and pushed a knife against his throat. I saw the man's eyes bulge in fear, locked on mine. The man tried to very carefully grab his gun in his pocket, but you stopped him. You snapped his wrist in one clean, quick movement, and covered his mouth with your gloved hand. I gasped without meaning to, and you grinned at him. "Ah, ah, not one word," you murmured into his ear. "See, Ruby and I, we're not on the uh…_list _for this particular party. And you, well, you're gonna help us get in anyway, alright?"

The man nodded, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. You kept the knife held tightly to his throat as you reached around and grabbed his walkie-talkie before you threw it on the ground and smashed it with one stomp. You motioned at me with the knife, pointing in the direction of the elevator. I gripped my handbag and began walking, hating myself even more for letting this poor man become your victim. Just as I clicked the button for the elevator, I heard footsteps. I froze, my eyes meeting yours. Had we been caught?

You simply smiled, and I knew they were your men. As if the tights with clown make-up painted over them to show your loyalty didn't tell me. There were only about three that didn't bother wearing tights to hide their faces They rounded the corner with guns in their hands, looking eagerly at you for guidance. Where did you find these men? You hardly put an advertisement in the newspaper that said '_Clown looking for men willing to crash a party and/or maim/kill people in the process'_. Well, however you had found them didn't really matter. There were here, and they had guns. _That _mattered, if you ask me. I wondered if they had taken the side door like we had to. I suppose that didn't matter much either. You put your knife in your pocket and one of the men, a short guy with a bit of a beer gut, handed you a shot-gun. "Sssh, sssh," you whispered into the man's ear when he struggled for a minute. "Don't look so worried, we're just going to a party! I _love _parties!"

You know, I thought being stabbed by a man in alleyway wearing a Fake Batman mask and hockey pants was the weirdest thing I would ever face, but standing in the middle of an elevator with men dressed like clowns, a terrified cop with a gun pressed to his neck and depressingly mundane elevator music droning away in the background. You were humming along with it, almost dancing on the balls of your feet with excitement. You really did love parties. I could feel butterflies fluttering my tummy, my nerves getting the best of me. I was trembling, but not as much as the poor cop in front of you.

I felt a sharp tinge of pain in my side, and carefully put my hand over it, shutting my eyes momentarily until the pain passed. When I opened my eyes again, you were watching me, but you said nothing. You didn't have time, I suppose. Before the doors even opened, I heard the hum of voices. I hadn't heard people – I mean people who didn't carry guns or rob banks or kidnap people - in such a long time it felt surreal. Another wave of pain ran through me, but I ignored it. The sound of your gun shooting the ceiling startled me because I had been looking down at my own side, worried by the pain. I had wrapped the bandages perfectly, like I had seen you do, I was certain I had, but why was it hurting me so much? I didn't have much time to think about it. I was shoved along through the open elevator doors, facing a crowd of terrified 'big-shots', as you called them.

"We made it!" you called out.

These clown henchmen you hired poured out of that elevator with their guns at the ready. I was pushed aside, and glad of it. I moved towards the wall, and one woman flinched away from me as if she expected me to shoot her even though I had no gun. I made my way to the table, passing the crowd without looking at any of them even though I felt their eyes burning into me. I stopped when I reached the champagne and little plates of food lying out on the table. I grabbed a chocolate covered strawberry, even though it really wasn't the time for snacking. I knew it was impossible, but the room was so quiet and tense I felt as if simply chewing a strawberry would be the loudest noise in the world.

I had forgotten what it must feel like to look at you as a stranger. I was still frightened of you, don't get me wrong – I never knew what you would do next, after all – but not as much as I used to be. These people cowered away from you. They looked at you with a kind of fear and horror, mouths open and eyes wide. You revelled in it. _That _was the Joker, the man who put on a real show.

"Good evening, ladies and gentle_men_," you said. One of the men who wore Dopey's mask threw a man on the floor as you said, "We are tonight's…entertainment." You ate a shrimp, and I saw a very short, hefty lady turn her nose up at you, and it made me want to smile because you had awful manners. My eyes ran along the crowd, and I saw a white haired man looking rather worried. Of course, everyone looked worried, but the only difference was he slipped out of sight. I even stood on my tippy-toes as if he would be crouching behind someone to hide from you, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"And we only have one question," you continued, speaking with your mouth full. Charming. "Where is Harvey Dent?"

More pain ran through me, so sudden it made me gasp. No one seemed to notice, because you were walking very slowly and looking at each person as if the answer was written on their faces. That lady who flinched from me was too busy staring at you in horror. Her husband put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. How sweet. When the pain passed, I straightened up, and let out a deep sigh. Wherever Harvey Dent was, I prayed you would never find him. For his sake, I prayed that he was somewhere far, far away, blissfully unaware that the strongest, most dangerous criminal in Gotham was looking for him at this very moment.


	16. Game Over

**A/N: **_Well, I must say I've wanted to put Alfred in this for quite a long time because who doesn't love that man? I hope I did a good job with this chapter, I was a little worried about it. I hope you like it guys! Thank you for your reviews, too! They mean a lot to me! :) And I know it's an unusually fast update when I normally take so bloody long but I have more exams coming up in the next two weeks or so, so I want to write as much as I can! So here it is :) I'll try to write another soon enough, so thank you for your patience and reviews! :) _

* * *

**- Chapter Sixteen - **_  
_

_Game Over_**  
**

* * *

Have you ever heard of an outer body experience? I read about a woman once, who said that she had to have heart surgery and half way through it, she felt as if she had woken up. She could step away from her own body, like a ghost. She said she stood in the room with the surgeon poking at her heart, blood on his scrubs – _her _blood – with nurses all around him, and she just watched it for a while, because she thought that any moment now they'd realize she was dead. When that didn't happen – the steady _beep-beep _of the heart monitor made her think she might not be so dead after all – she went wandering around the hospital in this ghost-like state, feeling as if she was floating and nothing bad could happen to her. She woke up eventually of course, sealed into her body again. I'm only telling you this because that's how I felt standing in that room filled with the big-shots, their champagne in hand, horrified looks on their faces as they watched you circle them like a hawk looking for its prey. I felt like a ghost who had floated into something awful.

You handed me some champagne as you passed, then grabbed yourself a glass. I gulped it down in one go and put the glass back down. You asked if anyone knew where Harvey Dent was, but everyone kept their mouths sealed shut. Some were brave enough to stare you in the face, but others averted their gaze to the floor. You held one man by his chin, something you did to me often. "Do you know where I can find _Harvey_? I need to talk to him about something, just something little, huh? _No_." You kept going, scanning the sea of faces before you. I wondered where Bruce Wayne was, while the Joker was gate-crashing his party. I suppose he made a dash for it, hiding out somewhere. I couldn't blame him.

"You know, I'll settle for his loved ones," you said, and that threat dragged me right out of my Wayne filled thoughts. The moment I felt that rush of panic, I felt pain in my stitches, too. I hissed softly, biting my tongue. The pain passed. I didn't think about it. I didn't _want _to think about it. I could handle it.

"We're not intimidated by thugs," one man said, and boy, was he brave. I saw your jaw tense in that angry way, but you just cocked your head a little, like you were confused by his act of defiance. People who said 'no' to you were always baffling in your mind.

"You know… you remind me of my father." The moment those words left your scarred lips, I felt my chest tighten. You hit the table three times, just to show him how unhappy that made you. You grabbed him so harshly, by the back of his head with your knife to his mouth. My breath hitched, wondering if you'd slit his mouth wide open like you had done to Gambol, and like you told me your own father did to you.

"Okay, stop."

A woman in a dark green dress had emerged from the crowd, seemingly unafraid of the guns and the masked men. Unafraid of you, too. You let the man go, and all that tightness in my chest vanished. He would be able to brag to his friends about the day he stood up to the Joker. You began slinking towards her very slowly, like you didn't want to startle her. She glanced at the knife in your hand, and her eyes trailed to your scars. I forgot what they must look like to someone who had never seen them up close before. In a way, I kind of liked your scars. Scars mean you survived something, you told me that. After all, I should know. I have my own.

"Well _helloooo _beautiful." You slicked your hair back like you wanted to impress her, and I nearly laughed. You sleazebag. She didn't look as if she would swoon at the sight of you, if I'm honest. In fact, her face was scrunched up in disgust. If I wasn't mistaken, she was Rachel Dawes. "You must be Harvey's _squeeze_, hm? And you _are_ beautiful."

All of your clown henchmen kept close to you, but I didn't move at all. I stayed perfectly still, watching as you circled her.

"You look nervous," you noted. "Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got 'em?"

I knew exactly how Rachel Dawes felt when you grabbed her and pulled her close to you, putting that knife to her like you did a hundred times to me. You just wanted to frighten her, I could tell. She panicked for a split second, but you held her and kept her still. I felt my heart thumping, my chest tightening once again. I hated that feeling, as if everything was closing in on me. When you held the knife to her face, it glinted in the light, and a sudden image of Rachel Dawes with your scars filled my mind.

You whispered something to her, but from the other side of the room it was hard to hear. She finally stopped her twisting, and went completely still when she stared into your eyes. It was like you put her under a spell. She would twitch every now and then like she wanted to run away from you, but she couldn't, of course.

"So I had a wife, and she was _beautiful_ – like you. Who tells me, that I worry too much, that I ought-a _smile _more. Who gambles, and gets in deep with the sharks - _hey_. One day they carve her face. And we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just wanna see her smile again, _hm_…I just want her to know that I don't _care _about the scars." I touched my own stitches, my own scar. Another story about how you got your scars. Maybe you were lying, or maybe there really had been a Mrs Joker once upon a time. With you, anything could be possible. "So, I stick a razor in my mouth, and do _this_-…" – you moved your knife along your own scars, and she tried to look away from you again – "…to myself."

"And you know what? She can't _stand the sight of me_! She _leaves_. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm _always smiling_." When you raised you arms in a triumphant sort of way, she hit you. She got a good punch, too, from the way you doubled over. You were laughing breathlessly, enjoying every minute of this.

"You've got a _little_ fight in you," you grinned when you straightened up. "I like that."

"Then you're gonna love me!"

I can promise you, in the many terrifying moments I had endured in the past few weeks I had been with you, nothing compared to the way my heart seemed to leap in my chest when I saw Batman – the _real _Batman. No hockey pants that I could see, and trust me when he punched you I made sure to check. I took a step forward, though I wasn't sure what I would do. Frantic thoughts bulleted my brain. A few people scattered in the confusion, and I felt a hand clamp around my wrist. A man with white hair was pulling me back into the crowd, and I panicked, pulling away from him.

"Miss Reddington, you _need _to come with me immediately!" he hissed. He didn't look like one of your henchmen, but I was frightened. What if he was just another one of your tricks? He tugged me behind the crowd, and put one hand on my shoulder, pushing me in the direction of a hallway.

I yanked my wrist away from him. "Who the Hell are you?"

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and I'm trying to help you, but we have to go _now_."

I glanced back at you, but you were so focused on Batman you weren't even looking. I only had seconds to decide. My mind said that it was right to go with him, that it would mean leaving you and saving myself, but I was torn. Alfred made the decision for me, he began pulling me again, although it took a moment of reluctance for me to actually walk alongside him. He was gripping me tightly, one arm on mine, the other on my shoulder. Two women and a man ran past us, and then another man yapping on his phone in a feverish babble.

My eyes met with Alfred's for a split second, and I had to stop. He frowned at me in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"He'll kill you," I whispered, as if you could hear us. "I can't let you die trying to help me get away from him, I couldn't live with myself."

"Incidentally, Miss Reddington, I am not afraid of that man, and you shouldn't be either. Not anymore."

I smiled sadly at him. "Call me Ruby."

"Ruby it is," he smiled back. "But we _must _go immediately, there is an emergency staircase on the-…"

"Well, what-ta we have here?"

I felt my blood run cold, my grip tightening on poor Alfred. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. How could I let him be harmed just trying to help me? One of your men was standing at the end of the hall, shot-gun in hand. He was grinning beneath his clown-painted tights, aiming the gun at us. Alfred took a deep breath. The jig was up. We both knew it. I wanted to kick myself.

"You," the man growled gruffly. "Come 'ere. _Now_. Don't make me shoot the old guy!"

I certainly didn't hesitate about that. The man kept his gun trained on Alfred, twitching with excitement that he had caught me. I guess he thought you'd give me a good ol' pat on the back for catching the prisoner, maybe give him a lollipop for his hard work. My tummy was doing flip-flops. I met Alfred's gaze, silently thanking him for trying. "Move," the man with the gun snapped. "That way." He was pointing us in your direction again. My heart seemed to sink all the way to my tummy when we began walking. When we entered the room, I couldn't see you. I held my breath.

Alfred was pushed into the crowd by the man with the gun standing beside me, and I sent Alfred a very thankful smile, though I couldn't help my sadness or that feeling of hopelessness weighing down on my chest. I heard a shot ring out, echoing around the room as glass shattered. I flinched as if _I _had been shot, and my eyes landed on you as the crowd jumped back in shock, a few people shrieking or screaming with fright. You had Rachel Dawes practically hanging out of the window, holding her only by her arm. Oh, God.

I heard Batman say, "Let her go."

"Very poor choice of words." You laughed. And then you let her go. Batman ran after her, pushing you out of the way, but you didn't waste any time. Your eyes darted around the room, a frenzied, wild look in your eyes. I knew who you were looking for. When you saw me, you grinned, striding towards me. I could feel my legs turning to jelly all over again, my heart thumping and the blood pounding through my brain. The big-shots were running, and you walked through them without a care in the world, parting them like the red sea. They were trying to escape you, something I wish I could do at that very moment, too.

"Ruby! My sweet, beautiful _Ruby Red_!" you sang, grabbing me and spinning us around as if we were in a waltz. You smelled my hair and tried to nuzzle my neck, and I felt a tear run down my cheek because it was never going to end. I would never be free. Alfred had tried. We only took fifteen steps around a corner, and we were caught. I could never escape you, not unless you just killed me first. You said you wouldn't, but after watching you _push _a woman from a building, I would never know exactly what you were capable of. "What have you been doing, _sweetheart_?"

"She tried to run for it, boss." The man with the gun was watching us hungrily, waiting eagerly for you to praise him, to tell him '_good job for keeping her here_'.

His words cut through your happiness like a knife. We froze mid-waltz, as if we had turned into statues. I didn't bother trying to hold back tears anymore. I couldn't take it. You had almost killed a woman for crying out loud, and from the look in your eyes you wanted to kill me, too. You were crushing my hand in yours. I felt as if you would crack every bone in my body. Your dark eyes burned into mine, your jaw tensing. "What did you say?" you asked very quietly, your voice low. That was the way you always sounded when you were angry – husky, hoarse…terrifying.

The man didn't look so certain you would be happy he stopped me anymore. He repositioned his gun nervously, licking his lips before swallowing a lump in his throat. Your eyes never left mine, not even when he spoke. "She uh, well-…a man was trying to help her, you know, and I just….I was keeping watch like you told me to but then….I heard all the commotion, and I came around the corner and found 'em. And I stopped 'em." He sounded hopeful then, waiting for you to present him with a medal for his valour.

"You tried to leave me?" you asked, and you sounded…_hurt_.

"I…I just…," I muttered flatly, knowing that I could tell you anything, even the truth, and you would never believe me. "It happened so fast, I panicked…"

"Panicked," you repeated, nodding. "So it was fear?"

"Y-Yes, I mean-…" I stammered, my heart beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird was loose beneath my ribs. My skin felt as if it were burning with your touch, my breath shaky and quick.

"I told you, you had to _stop _feeling fear in order to really _live_, Red," you growled. "I'll show you how to _live_. We're done here. Game over."


	17. Shot You Down

**A/N:** _To '**Guest**' since I can't reply privately, I just wanted to thank you for your review :) So I hope you guys like it, I did my best! :) Thank you so much for your reviews and favourites and all that, I really love you guys! :D_

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- **Chapter Seventeen - **

_Shot You Down_

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"_Sometimes I think the difference between what we want and what we're afraid of is about the width of an eyelash."_

**- **_**"Invisible Fences", Jay McInerney**_

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I was waiting for them when they kicked the door open, you know; I had heard their voices, their boots slamming against the ground as they marched toward my bedroom, and I figured that I was going to die today. You weren't with them. I guess my death wasn't important enough for you to stick around. Fine. If I was going to die, I would go down fighting. Four men burst into the room. Really, you shouldn't have bothered sending so many. Not for little ol' me. The first man was tall and scrawny, with leering eyes that were almost black. I waited, pretending to be the calm, subdued little victim they thought I would be, before I punched him as hard as I could. I felt something crack beneath my knuckles just as blood spurted from the man's nose. He called me some unfavourable names as he stumbled backwards, his hand instantly trying to stop the blood. I had learned from an opportunist like you to take what I could get, and in the stunned second of silence that followed, I kicked him in his crown jewels and sent him howling to the floor.

Of course, the next man had wrapped a hand around my wrist and was pulling my arm behind my back, but I kicked and screamed and lashed out at him. He grabbed my waist, hoisted me in the air and tried to restrain me. "Grab her legs," he ordered a red-haired man who eyed me warily. Unfortunately, he wasn't as cautious as he should have been, because I managed to kick him in the chest before he could wrap his arms around my legs and stop me. I was like a wild animal, screaming until my lungs burned. A man in front of me cleared his throat to get my attention, and it worked surprisingly well. I stopped squirming and screeching, my eyes focusing on him.

"Hiya Ruby, my name is Jeff."

"Hiya _Jeff_," I hissed.

He grinned. "You know, the Joker said you'd be a little…testy. And he wasn't kidding around."

"Sent you to do his dirty-work, has he?" I spat.

Jeff laughed. "Yes, actually. But don't you worry your pretty little head about it, he said he'd meet up with us real soon. If that's okay with you?"

"Go fuck yourself _Jeff_," I grunted. I don't normally curse. Honest. I'm usually a very well-spoken lady. Most of the time.

"Right, well, in the meantime, we have stuff to be doing. Thomas, stand up," Jeff barked, gazing at the man on the floor with disgust. "You got your ass kicked by a girl, deal with it. I said _stand up_, Thomas."

"She broke my fucking nose!"

"Yeah and if you aren't careful I'll let her break something else," Jeff muttered. "We have a job to do. I won't let you screw it up for us. I need that money the Joker is offering for this. So, don't make me say it again. _Get up_."

Apparently, Jeff was a force to be reckoned with. Thomas scrambled to his feet, and Jeff whistled at the man holding my waist. He nodded, but before I could even blink, they had put a bag over my head and someone was tying my wrists with rope. You really went all out for this. My heart was pounding in my chest, my adrenaline vanishing as quickly as it came. I was frightened. I wanted to curl up in my bed and pretend everything was okay. I didn't want to die. I know that I said I didn't care, but when it was happening, _really happening_, I was filled with a sort of panic that seemed to consume me entirely.

"You idiot Thomas, she didn't break your nose, it's just bleeding. The voices in your head must be telling you lies, huh?" Jeff laughed. Thomas heard voices in his head. Oh, God. You had left me with what seemed to be a man suffering from schizophrenia. "We're running on a tight schedule, boys. Time to go."

Just like that, we were leaving. They wouldn't let me walk because they thought I'd either kick them or try to run for it, I guess, so they stayed like that, with one man holding my waist and the other holding my legs. The man holding my waist was not particularly gentle about it, and I could feel his arm rubbing against my stitches, and a tear rolled down my cheek. I wasn't sure if it was the pain in my side or the fact that was I going to die that made me cry. Maybe it was both. We were leaving my bedroom, my prison, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to the mattress that still had a little bit of my blood on it from the night you had to give me those stitches.

They flung me rather harshly into the van, and let me tell you, if I thought riding in the back of a van was uncomfortable before, imagine it with a bag over your head and rope around your wrists. Although I suppose my comfort wasn't high on the list of your troubles at that moment, not when you had bigger fish to fry. Every twist, every corner, every sudden stop meant I would go crashing into the metal walls and hit the ground. I bumped my head a lot too. I'm surprised I didn't get a concussion, especially when it did finally squeal to a stop and I went flying forward, almost rolling over. I groaned, hearing the van doors open and a pair of hands wrapped around my waist again.

I kicked at the man holding me the moment he tried to wriggle me out of the van. Someone laughed, and I felt myself freeze. I knew that laugh anywhere. It was you. You were really here. My breathing was shaky, my chest rising and falling.

"Did you have a nice tri_p-ah_, Red?"

I felt my blood boil. You were mocking me before you were going to kill me. "Oh yes, being thrown around like a rag-doll really was _fan-tast-ic_, thank you."

There was a sudden burst of wild, manic laughter but that definitely wasn't yours. I heard Jeff mutter, in a slightly tense tone, "Shut up Thomas!" and figured that our schizophrenic pal had slipped up in front of you. I made myself stay very still. I didn't want to give you any satisfaction in this. Your hand wrapped around my arm, forcing me to walk alongside you. I stumbled, but you didn't wait. You just kept pulling me along until we made it to a door, which you pushed open. I heard it slam shut behind us. We were alone.

"I hate to do this Ruby, I really do," you said, in an almost sing-song kind of way. "You know how I feel about you. But after what you did, well…."

I didn't answer you. I was not the bad guy; I would not _let_ myself be the bad guy. I hadn't taken you. I never made you wear a _bomb_ around your chest. I had never left you lying in a pool of your own _blood_ in a dark alleyway, frightened and believing you were going to die. No. _You_ had done this, and I would not feel riddled with guilt for trying to run because that isn't how it's supposed to work – you were the bad guy, and I just happened to be unfortunate enough to be your victim. I stumbled again, only this time I almost tripped on some stairs. You didn't even pause – just half-lifted me until I found my footing again. Another door. The room felt a little cold, empty even though I couldn't see a thing. You made me stop, and you let go of my arm. I heard the sound of you walking across the room, and something scraping against the floor. I thought you might do it like an old-fashioned sort of execution, where I would be lined up against the wall and shot. Unless you found yourself a guillotine, which wouldn't surprise me at all. When I was little I read that when the head is cut off and left in the basket, it's still alive for a few seconds. I prayed that wasn't true. Otherwise my last sight on this Earth would either be you gloating at me or just a plain old basket.

"Take a few steps forward, Ruby," you ordered.

I did, very slowly, until I bumped into something. You put your hands on my shoulders and made me sit down. Then, you ripped off the bag. The light was momentarily blinding, and I squinted my eyes from the burning light. When it finally went away, I saw you. Only, I didn't realize it was really _you_. Without the war-paint, in a Ceremonial uniform. It reminded me of my father's military uniform, with all the badges on your chest, like his medals. I stared at you in confusion with my mouth wide open, baffled. And you wanna know the first thing I thought? You were handsome. Very handsome, actually. I liked your scars. Without the war-paint, you looked so…_human_.

"Hi, Red," you said softly. You untied my wrists, only to re-tie them around the arms of the chair in order to bind me to it so I wouldn't be able to escape. You did the same to my legs. "Are you scared?"

You had asked me that when I had been stabbed and was bleeding heavily in the alleyway before. I didn't lie to you then, and I wouldn't lie to you now. I nodded, my mouth feeling far too dry and my throat too tight. "What are you waiting for?"

"I can't kill you," you said. My heart felt as if it would burst, my eyes widening. Were you going to spare me? "And then I thought we could take a chance, Ruby. A real chance. Look out the window behind me. What do you see?"

My frazzled brain searched the building across from us. "Uh, I-I see a-apartments."

"Good," you nodded very calmly. "Look closer."

I saw Thomas in a window directly across from us, waving at me with a sick grin on his face. He was fixing something to the window, only I couldn't see what it was. And I told you so. You were smiling. You really were handsome, despite the jagged scars. "He's wiring up a little, uh, _timer_ to the blinds. And I've done the same thing to this window right here." It was only then that I saw the small timer on the window, the red dial counting down every second, and met your eyes in confusion. "Today is an important day in Gotham Ruby, we're remembering the _great, late Commissioner_… Lots of policemen lining the streets….helicopters in the sky…and snipers aiming guns at the buildings. If they see a single movement that looks a little suspicious, well, they have permission to…"

You raised your hand and made it look like a gun, holding it in front of my forehead and pretending to pull an imaginary trigger. I flinched, my heart pounding. You were grinning, and you licked your scars, still holding that imaginary gun to my head.

"_Bang_," you whispered. "No more Ruby."

"But if I'm tied to the chair I can't do anything, they can't shoot," I babbled, and you laughed.

"Exactly. You _can't _do anything, so it all depends on _chance_. Just like life, Red. We could die today or we could die tomorrow. It's all _chance_. I chose one of these timers randomly, and Thomas out there has set them up so that only _one _will go off at the right time. Only he knows which will go off on time, and he will be standing right beside me, down there on the street when it does. When that happens, those blinds are gonna pull up, and the trigger-happy snipers out there are gonna have a _blast_. So either that blind over there opens, and they see nothing but a telescope….or _this _blind opens, and they see a woman who may be trying to shoot the Mayor of Gotham. And you think they're going to wait to find out if you were really a killer or not? Of course they aren't. They're just gonna pull those triggers."

"I thought you loved me."

You stopped as if I had slapped you. Your eyes were so black and intense, but I stared you down, determined not to look away or even blink. "I do love you, Ruby. I'm doing this _for you_. Don't you see that?"

"You don't know how to love another person," I spat, and I saw you flinch. I enjoyed it.

"I _do _love you," you growled, seemingly hurt. "You tried to leave me out of _fear_. I don't want you to be afraid. Not of me. Not of anything."

"So _this _is how you plan to show me that you're really a nice guy deep down?" I yelled, and my voice cracked when I felt a sharp pain in my stitches, my breath hitching in a gasp. You stood up, fixing the hat on your head with a very serious, stern sort of expression. "I _hate_ you!"

"No, you don't," you replied coolly. "You just think you do. But you'll thank me. You love me, just like I love you. You'll see that soon. Just wait."

You stood behind me and kissed the top of my head, almost smelling my hair even though I squirmed away from you. You sighed deeply, before blindfolding me.

"The timer will go off soon enough, Ruby. I think it's best if you can't see it. Makes it more _fun_, don't you think sweetheart? Any second it could go off, and either this blind or the one in the building across from us will go up, and those snipers will shoot the first thing they see. I hope it isn't you. I really do. But this is all going on _chance_, Ruby. I chose the timer without knowing which one will go off first, because I want you to understand that the only way to live is without fear. Who knows which timer will go off first, huh? _Tick tock, tick tock….tick…__**tock**__._"

I heard the sound of you walking away from me, just leaving me there. You were insane. Really and truly _insane_. You were trying to teach me to live without fear, but it was the only thing I felt. I heard the timer counting down the seconds until one of the blinds went off, and if it was the blinds in front of me that rose then…well, like you said – _bang_. No more Ruby.


	18. Adieu

**A/N: **_Hi guys :) Well another chapter…I'm kind of proud of this one actually, so I'm really hoping you guys will like it. And I thank you so much for your reviews, they mean everything to me, and I can't thank you enough for taking the time to review and favourite and everything. Just know I'm extremely grateful for it! :) I listened to a lot of music writing this, but mainly Dirge by Death in Vegas, if you haven't it, it's amazing :D_

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__**- **Chapter Eighteen -

**_Adieu _**

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"_He both perfumed and poisoned her entire world."_

**- **_**Suite Scarlett**_**, Maureen Johnson.**

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At the tender age of fourteen, my older sister Karla witnessed her dog, Sprinkles –she had named him when she was six, so her creativity was limited to say the least – being run over by my father, who hadn't been looking in the rear-view mirror when he was backing out of the drive-way. Karla cried for what felt like forever, spending endless nights wandering the house and wailing like a Banshee. Whenever a commercial came on that had anything to do with dogs, we would leap for the remote control before she burst into tears. Of course, my father hadn't meant to do it. He was as fond of Sprinkles as Karla was, despite the unfortunate name. Karla went through a phase of wearing dark, Gothic clothes for a while, something she vehemently denies. She listened to bands with singers who wore tighter jeans than most of their female fan-base, and although I'm not sure if that had anything to do with the traumatic death of Sprinkles the Labrador, I still remembered him as I sat waiting for a sniper to shoot me in that damned apartment.

Sprinkles hadn't been in any pain, or so our dad told us. _Bang_. One hit and he was gone. I hoped that if I joined Sprinkles in whatever afterlife he was in, I could tell him that I had a pretty painless death too. _Bang. _One hit and Rubywas gone, too. We could share a chew-toy for old times' sake. I'm kidding, of course, but isn't it funny how hysterical you become when you know you're going to die? I could hear drumming. I thought it was my heart hammering in my chest for a little while, before I realized that it was coming from the street below. Crowds cheering. What a day to die.

I yanked my chair back and forth angrily, trying to pull my blindfold off. It was slipping, and I had to shake my head again and again, until it fell past my nose. I must have looked like a real idiot, sticking my tongue out to try and pull it down somehow. It worked, actually, and it fell around my neck. Brilliant, now if they shot me, I'd see it coming at least. Smart idea Ruby. I blew a piece of hair from my face, realizing that if they did shoot me, the last thing I'd hear was Scottish bagpipes.

Until, of course, I heard voices. I almost toppled the chair over, thinking it was coming from the hallway behind me and I could scream my way out of this. It hit me very suddenly that it was coming from the street below, and that everything had gone eerily silent apart from this one man's voice. No bagpipes, no cheering, nothing but his voice – and the ticking of the timer by the window, of course. In a way, it was very soothing. I leaned my head against the head-rest and shut my eyes, imagining Sprinkles running around Doggy-Heaven, just waiting for me to rub his tummy for the first time in many years. The last thing Sprinkles saw was either the end of my dad's car, or the toy Karla had thrown for him to catch. I missed that dog.

My eyes narrowed at the timer on the windowsill. I stretched my leg out, pointing my toe like a Ballerina, hoping to knock it over. I was pretty desperate, if you didn't notice. Violet was the Ballerina in my family, not me. I was just Ruby. If I knocked it over, would that mean the blind wouldn't go up? I didn't get a chance to find out, actually, because I felt a sharp pain radiate from my stitches. I yelped, my leg immediately falling. I scrunched my eyes shut, biting my lip and letting out a small cry. Okay. Okay, I could do this. It was only a small bit of pain.

I stretched my leg out again, not caring that the rope cut into my skin or that the pain only grew worse. My eyes glanced at the timer, and I almost whacked my head against the head-rest when I realized I had only _seconds _left. My heart leapt in my chest – possibly for the last time in my life – and I thought of your face only. I thought about the very first time I met you in that café, and how I could never have known how drinking a simple cup of tea would change my life. I thought about Sprinkles, about Fake Batman, about _Real_ Batman. About my parents and my sisters, and how I never really liked my job at the bank or my shitty apartment anyway. You were right. What was the point in going to the parties my sisters held that I hated, in pretending to like those people who only ever really looked down on me and what was the point in _caring _about what they thought of me when I could die at any second?

And _in_ that very second, I realized just how right you were, and heard that little _ding _as if it was your voice telling me, 'I told you so, Red'.

I screamed without even meaning to, my eyes watching that blind move up a few inches with my heart feeling as if it had leapt into my mouth, like it was trying to escape before it was all over. I heard the _bang _of a gun coming from a sniper who didn't know any better, who had shot me without realizing I wasn't the threat, that you were down there in the crowd. And screams. I heard screams, a mix of my own and the crowd below. I heard the panic and I felt the fear, but most of all I felt _pain_. That tremendous, all consuming kinda pain that makes it hard to think about anything else.

But I looked at the window across from me, and I swore I saw a man standing in that window when the blinds on the other side rose up. I saw him fall backwards in surprise. I know I did, but tears blurred my eyes and the pain ran through me so quickly I didn't even have a chance to really see him. I don't know if he saw me. I didn't even care, because I had been shot, and I could feel the blood soaking my loose shirt, sticky and horribly, horribly _red_. Such a bright colour, too. I screamed again, before I whimpered like a wounded animal, twisting and turning in the seat. It hurt more than anything I had ever felt in my life. I envied Sprinkles for his quick, painless death. I felt hot, blinding tears streaming down my cheeks, and tugged even harder on the ropes around my wrists in the hopes that they would come loose somehow.

They would never hear me. All of those panicked, frightened people running rampant on the streets downstairs, their screams drowned out mine. I called out for you, too, as if you might be standing right outside, just waiting. Nothing happened. I heard another round of shots ring out through the air, shrill screams and cries following it. What kind of chaos were you causing? The blood was soaking my shirt, making it stick to my skin. It felt like I had been sitting there for years, bleeding out by myself. Looks like I would see Sprinkles very soon. Bullets were ringing out. I saw one hit the window in the building across from us, near the window where I thought I had seen a man. It smashed the window into pieces, falling down onto the street.

I wondered if any of those shards would hit you. Or maybe you weren't even here anymore. Maybe you were making a run for it. After all, surely they would realize it was you behind this entire thing? You probably ran the moment you heard those gun-shots, or maybe you caused them. Were you going to leave me here to die? Until one day someone came to check on this apartment and found me here, and who knew how long that might take? Weeks? Months? I could be a bloody, forgotten skeleton by the time they found me. You left me. You left me here, alone and terrified, to die.

"Coward," I growled bitterly, grunting in pain as I shifted in my seat. "Bastard, psychotic little piece of _shit_."

My eyes drifted shut with the sound of screams ringing in my ears, but when I opened them, it was eerily silent. Had I actually passed out?

I was bleeding so badly it was beginning to drip onto the pristine, white wooden floorboards beneath me. I felt much weaker. And so very, very tired. I could barely pull on the ropes around my wrists anymore. I felt surprisingly numb. Dethatched, almost. I was having an outer-body experience all over again, I guess, and I was grateful for it. I never, ever thought that in my dying moments I would be thinking about Sprinkles the Labrador and my kidnapper who wore clown make-up. Ever.

My head titled forward, my chin almost touching my chest because I was slumped in my seat. I heard a bang, and wondered if the snipers thought they'd finish off the job. But it was a door slamming open, not a bullet. I didn't have the energy in me to even keep my eyes open properly.

"It wasn't you! You weren't hit, you're _alive_, and I told you-… Ruby?"

I heard that uncertainty in your voice for the first time. I knew it was bad. You were never unsure of yourself, but to hear you freeze up scared me even more than the blood all over me. I heard your footsteps come to an abrupt halt, the happiness in your voice drain away, realisation dawning on you. Then I heard you running to me, slamming yourself to the ground in front of me and lifting my chin up with your gloved hand. You were still dressed like a military man, and I giggled dizzily because your badges were just a blur of colour to me. You didn't _look_ like a military man, not with that panic in your eyes, the way they darted around my body as if you were utterly lost.

I had never seen you that way before.

"How did this happen?" you asked, and you had to shake me.

"_Bang_," I whispered.

"You couldn't have been _shot_, the window is still intact," you growled. I followed your gaze and looked at the window as if you were lying. But you weren't. The blind was only half-risen, and I frowned in confusion. You pulled my shirt up so quickly I yelped and flinched away from you, but you were determined. Your eyes widened and you hissed like a snake as you licked your scars, looking furious. "Your stitches. You_ ripped your fucking stitches_."

You put your head in your hands and stood up suddenly, walking in a circle around me, hiding your face from me. You took your hat off and flung it across the room as you let out a ferocious roar and punched a wall. You let out a strangled cry and when you looked at me, I thought your eyes looked suspiciously watery. "You've lost a lot of blood," you said, and your voice was hoarse. "I didn't-…When I was down there, I saw the window was fine, and I thought you were o-_kay_. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

You never apologised for anything. I must admit, I was touched.

You were getting a hold of yourself, becoming the Joker again. "We gotta move you. I can't stitch you up again."

"Move me where?" I asked weakly.

You pawed your hair from your face and ran your hands through it, running your tongue over your scars as you thought about it. Then, it hit you. I could see a plan light up in your eyes. You were across the room and at my side before I could even blink. "The medical centre. In the shady part of town. They mostly deal with druggies, addicts who stuck the needle in a little too _deep_-ah."

"I'm not a druggie," I replied, confused, dazed and dizzy from the blood-loss. I felt pain suddenly flare in my side again. I grabbed your hand, taking you by surprise, squeezing it as hard as I could. I gritted my teeth and let out another cry. You looked almost sympathetic. Without all that make-up, you were so _human_, so _normal_.

"We're going, Red. They're gonna stitch you up properly, they'll help the pain go away, alright?"

I nodded, deciding I had no other choice but to trust what you said. "You came back," I said, smiling.

You looked at me like I was crazy, or stupid – or both. "Of course I did."

"Thank you."

"Did you ever notice that when you're near death, you're either overly kind, or just plain _mean_?" you asked, but I saw that look of joy in your eyes that I had thanked you. You thought it meant I loved you. And I think that was all you really wanted.


	19. Crash and Burn

**A/N:** _Well, this took a little longer than I hoped to write and I really am sorry about that! I hope you guys like this I had to re-write it quite a few times until I felt happy with it...So yeah, I really do hope you guys enjoy it :)_

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- Chapter Eighteen -

_**Crash and Burn**_

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You were chewing your scars again, only you didn't know it. You were staring out the window as Gotham blurred beyond us, running a switchblade along your lips, too deep in your own head to even realize that you had nicked your own skin with the knife. A dribble of blood ran from the corner of your lip, where you had unknowingly cut yourself, dripping in a thick line onto your shirt. In the pale, fluorescent light streaming in the car window, you reminded me of a vampire. It didn't matter that you were bleeding. Your shirt was already drenched – and I mean _drenched_, in blood, _my _blood – and you barely seemed to even realize you had hurt yourself anyway. You never really felt pain the way others did. I was pretty numb by then, something that scared me a little. If you've ripped your stitches, aren't you supposed to _feel _something? Half-slumped against your chest, I felt as if I was floating somewhere far away. I thought I could hear your heart-beat beneath your shirt. I focused solely on that drumming sound, momentarily shutting my eyes. You shook me so violently, but I barely even felt it.

"What will you do if I die?" I asked, my voice a whisper. I wished you would let me sleep.

"You won't die," you replied gruffly. You wiped your chin with the back of your hand, seemingly surprised by the blood that smeared across your pale hand. You frowned, probably wondering if it was mine.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"Would you give me back?"

"Wha_t_?" you grunted, sounding irritated.

"If I died," I murmured wearily, wishing I hadn't started all of this because it was becoming more and more difficult to even speak. "…if I died, would you give me back so…so my sisters can bury me?"

"You're _far_ too morbid for a, uh, _dying _person." You weren't laughing or anything. Just staring out the window. You ran your tongue along your scars very slowly, before you cleared your throat and said, "Ruby, what if I made you a promise?"

"A promise?" I repeated dizzily. You shifted me around on my seat, holding me in order to make me look you in the eye. I wished you hadn't made me do that. It hurt. It hurt very, _very _badly and I wanted to slump against you again so I could go back to floating. "What…What kinda promise?"

"If you promise me you won't die, then I promise to tell you my name."

It sounded childish, to make me _promise _something that I really had no control over. Only, I ignored that alarmingly pleading and desperate look in your eye because it scared me – you never showed any kind of fear at all, but when you said those words I knew deep down that you were just as afraid as I was. Everything about you fascinated me.

You had a _name_. A name like everyone else. Of course, you hadn't just been born as the Joker – the awful things that happened to you _made_ you the Joker, they _created _you and made you the man that was still holding me at that very moment. To think that the man who killed without thinking twice, who could bring Gotham to its knees without feeling guilt or remorse, had a _name_ seemed impossible. But I wanted to know it. Oh, boy, did I want to know your name, because I bet no one had heard you utter your own name in _years_. In a way, it meant that you were like me - or at least, you used to be. You might have gone to school, you might have had some siblings and they may have made you feel like shit the way mine did. And maybe your dad was a drunk. And maybe he did give you those scars. And maybe that was why you wanted to hurt everyone just like he hurt you.

All of those things ran through my mind in seconds, my frazzled brain buzzing like a beehive.

"I promise."

You smiled. You really, really smiled. I felt my tummy drop, but not in a bad way. It was as if I had never really seen you before until I saw that smile. It wasn't the one you usually used, you know that old _Cheshire Cat _kind of smile. It was beautiful. You were very handsome. And the moment I thought that, I felt guilty. Guilty because I shouldn't think those things. I was supposed to hate you. Despite you, loathe you. But I didn't – I didn't hate you at all. I had to lie against you again because I was too dizzy to stay sitting up. I closed my eyes, and this time you didn't shake me. Even if you did, I wouldn't have felt it. I was floating again.

* * *

I'm not sure if you've ever had the pleasure of waking up in a truck with a man you have never met before, but I have. I was groggy, as if I had been woken from a surgery and couldn't remember what it was for. My fingers traced the fresh stitches etched into my skin with my eyes still closed, and when I did open them, all I saw was a blur of lights. I winced, because they blinded me and I could hear screeching, tires burning against the ground as we swerved around a corner and crashed into something. I was wearing your military jacket and a white, perfectly clean shirt but I was wearing a pair of men's boxer shorts. That was probably the most confusing moment I had ever had in my life. I pinched them as if I thought I was in a dream, scrunching the fabric in my hands.

Only then did I realize that man I told you about was sitting beside me, and I almost shrieked. He was wearing a cowboy hat, glasses and some cowboy boots to match the hat.

You left me with a _goddam Cowboy_!

I scrambled away from him, heart pounding in my chest. It didn't make any sense. I was supposed to wake up inside a car with you, about to go to a medical centre, but yet I was in a truck with a Cowboy smashing into cars and vans. We were underground somewhere. I wished you were here, so you could explain how _I _got here. I heard the sound of bullets hitting metal, and I flinched. You weren't so far away after all. Loud, deafening bangs rang through the air over the sound of the roaring truck. Every time I heard one of those bangs, it felt as if my heart had frozen in my chest. I felt as if I was sitting in that apartment again, stuck in the chair, unable to escape a sniper. I clamped my hands over my ears, bringing my knees to my chest, wanting to block it out.

I remembered the pain of my stitches ripping and thought it would happen again every time I heard the sound of a gun going off. I hated it.

Cowboy, as I had named him, didn't glance at me. I might as well have been dead for all the good I did him. Then there was the loudest bang that scared me so much I screamed again. Flames rose from my side of the window, and when I craned my neck to look back, I saw a police car skidding on the road, the back tires burning. I don't think I'd ever been so confused in my life. Another _bang _sent that police car rolling, and I sat back in my seat, not wanting to see anymore chaos. I wanted to get out. I hated feeling so _trapped_.

Life is a _funny_ thing, you know. One moment, you're sitting in the back of a car with your kidnapper, bleeding so much you think you're gonna die. The next, you're sitting in a truck with a Cowboy who won't even look at you, thinking that you're still gonna die. Real _funny_, huh?

I heard a noise above the cacophony of our own truck rumbling along the road. I opened my eyes very slowly, as if I had heard it before. I thought I was dreaming, or that I had taken some hallucinogenic drugs that were messing with my mind. If I wasn't dreaming or high, then I was right – that was _Batman _speeding right towards us. I sat bolt upright in my seat, leaning forward and putting my hands on the dashboard in front of me. Would he see me? Or would he crash right into us?

He zoomed right past us.

"Well. That was a very brief rescue," I said out-loud.

Rubble hit the window, something blowing up and sending fire everywhere. We were spinning, spinning, spinning in circles until we hit something and everything became eerily silent. I coughed, my throat feeling as if it had closed in on itself. My heart was thumping in my chest as I pushed my hair from my face – only then did I realize it felt damp. It wasn't encrusted in blood. How long had I been out? Had you been able to shower and dress me? I felt horribly mortified by that idea. Even though we were in a real wreck at the moment, I felt my cheeks reddening just thinking about it. I glanced over at Cowboy, who had blood trickling down his face, which was pressed into the steering wheel. He had lost his hat.

"Cowboy?" I whispered.

The door behind me swung open, and I almost screamed again. My nerves were shot. I was too panicky. I barely realized it was you until you clambered over me and I saw the viciously bright red greasepaint on your scars. A man with a gun was climbing in behind you, and I tugged on the shirt and jacket I wore in the hopes of protecting my modesty – I _was _in a pair of boxer shorts, after all.

"Harvey, Harvey, _Harvey Dent-_ah," you murmured, "Oh, excuse me, I wanna drive!"

You pushed him out, and I winced at the hard _thud _his body made when he hit the ground. You didn't seem to notice – or care – as you took the wheel, a bright grin on your face. The man who climbed in with you gave me a little nudge so I had to sit closer to you. How cosy. You were the Joker again, that's for sure. The man who had being holding me in the car earlier was gone. You were singing loudly, veering this way and that as we crashed into walls and cars.

"You're awake, Red, just in time for the _fun_-ah!" you yelled as we smashed into another car.

"Lucky me," I replied, and you laughed manically. I hadn't heard that laugh in a while. It felt like the first night I had met you. Your unpredictability used to frighten me. Only now you made me laugh sometimes, too.

"We're going after Dent," you growled, hunched over the wheel. We slammed into something again, but you didn't notice it at all. "I like this job, I like it!"

"What happened? I was in the car…" I said, confusion obvious in my voice.

"Yeah, yeah, _yeeeah_. You remember that. _Good_. Only, uh, you nearly _died. _We got to the medical centre. They drugged you up. You can't feel a thing, for now. I nearly _lost_ you. Only, I could never _lose _you," you sang. "Because we're _meant to be, _Ruby, _meant to __**be**__!_"

Where was Batman when you needed him? I must say, for a superhero he really wasn't doing a very good job of rescuing anyone. I found myself slumping in my seat, resting one hand against my chin, feeling a little putout. He needn't have bothered showing up if you ask me. Only when I heard helicopters did I bother sitting up in my seat to peer out the window at the sky. A light flashed in the sky as we chased that black van keeping Harvey Dent safe. You were hopping excitedly on your seat, unable to contain yourself.

"Okay, rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up, rack 'em up!" you said, and I glanced worriedly at you when I saw the little walkie-talkie in your hand. That wasn't good.

"What are you doing?" I asked, panicking.

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" you drawled sarcastically. "I'm showing _Har_vey _Dent_-ah some _fun_!"

Your idea of 'fun' was laughing manically as a helicopter smashed hit some wires and went smashing into a building. "What do you think, Red?" you asked excitedly, grinning wildly at me.

I could barely form a coherent _thought_, let alone _say_ anything.. You didn't scare me though, not the way you did when I first met you. I was far too busy staring the helicopter which crashed to the ground and burst into flames. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, quite literally, eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. You laughed as the helicopter rolled over the van and slammed onto the ground, slapping your hands against the wheel and jumping up and down in your seat again.

"Isn't this _fun_, Ruby? Remember the day after I saved you, I told you that you and I….we were _meant to do this_! I told you that you would learn to _trust_ me! Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I said, and I surprised myself. I didn't hesitate. I just _said _it, as if it was automatic. I ignored the way you stared at me, a demented smile on your scarred lips. Apparently I surprised you, too. I hated the guilt that always followed whenever I made you smile – _properly_ smile. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I didn't dare look at you again, staring at the black van without blinking until my eyes burned. It was better than watching that wild, frenzied look in your eyes as you watched the chaos you had created unfold in front of you.

Something exploded. It wasn't a helicopter, I was certain of that before the smoke had even cleared. Then my eyes landed on a familiar figure, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. _Batman_. And not the hockey-pants wearing kind. I mean the _real _Batman had come back.

"Now there's a _Bat_man," you said, not sounding frightened at all.

He was zooming towards us, and you pushed your foot on the pedal even harder, hunching over the wheel. My heart felt as if it had dropped to my stomach. "You can't be serious!"

"_Ooh_, you wanna play?" you asked excitedly. The man and I didn't exist anymore – you could only focus on Batman.

"He's not slowing down," I whispered, absolutely terrified. "He's going to hit us!"

"Come on, come on, come on," you murmured, eyes flashing, your hands tightening on the wheel.

I turned away, burying my head into the seat. I couldn't help myself. I heard a _swoosh_ and clamped my hands over my eyes, waiting for a bang. Only…nothing happened. I sat up slowly, staring at the street in confusion as if I would find Batman standing motionlessly there. He was nowhere to be seen. I let out a triumphant whoop, almost punching the sky. I was about to give the man beside me a high-five, but he didn't look like the cheerful 'we-just-lived' kind of guy. In fact, he was gripping his seat tightly and looking as if he was going to vomit. He had even dropped his gun he was so scared. I didn't care, though, because _we were alive_! So I turned to you, grinning.

"He missed!" was the only thing you seemed able to say. I heard the surprise in your voice. Or was it disappointment?

Suddenly, we were flying. It happened so quickly. Your arm snapped out in front of me, almost cushioning the fall. My eyes snapped shut and I screamed, bracing myself for the impact. I swear, even as the truck was being thrown into the air, I heard you _laughing_. Laughing as if this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to you, like a rollercoaster ride. I know I heard a crash, and I can remember hitting something hard that made my heart feel as if it had just _stopped_. Everything was dark and far too silent, your laughter still ringing in my ears.

_That_ was the moment we hit that ground and shards of glass pierced my skin, dust billowing around us and clogging up my lungs – _that _was the moment Ruby Reddington died and Ruby Red was born.


	20. Fineshrine

**A/N:** _Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts and stuff from the last chapter! :D I'm actually thinking of writing another Joker story since I'm enjoying this one so much. I'm not sure if it would be in the 'you' format like this one is - even though it's my favourite way of writing - but oh well, we'll see! :D Oh and this is chapter is named after the song Fineshrine by Purity Ring, which is an amazing song with beautiful lyrics :D_

* * *

- Chapter Twenty -

_**Fineshrine**_

* * *

With shards of glass nestled deep into my skin, smoke filling my lungs and your arm lying motionless beneath my chest, I thought of one thing only – _until I met you, I was not living. I was just existing_. I wish I could say that I didn't mean those words, because I remember how awful it made me feel to think that in all the years I had lived, it wasn't until I had nearly died that I realized I hadn't been living at all. I mean, I had an apartment, a job, a life, but you were right – those things didn't really make me feel _happy_. If anything, they made me more depressed, which is hard thing to tell someone who could never understand what I meant. In a way, you were the only person who _did _understand what it meant to be trapped in a life you didn't want and didn't even _like_. What was I even living for anyway? I hate saying this. I really do. I thought it made me a bad person.

I thought you were dead. When we were lying in that wreckage, one second seemed to drag itself out for eternity. Your eyes were closed, head resting on your chest, slumped against the seat. I struggled to move, tears burning when glass dug deeper into my skin. Blood oozed along my arms. The man who had been sitting beside me may have been dead. He had one long shard of glass sticking in his neck. The doors of the truck had fallen off when we hit the ground, and he was half-inside the truck and half-outside, one of his legs sticking out at a horribly mangled angle. My entire body was shaking, heart racing in my chest. I tried my best to shake you, only the glass stung and everything hurt again. Your eyes snapped open in a flash, yanking your arm from beneath me and startling me because you gripped my wrists like a python. You thought I was trying to attack you.

Then you realized where you were, and you let go of me, your body relaxing. You terrified me when you scrambled over me, taking me by surprise as you reached out one long arm and grabbed the gun lying just in front of me. You checked that it had bullets, a wild, demented glint in your black eyes. You pushed your hair from your face and cracked your neck. I winced at the sound. "Ruby, do you remember what I promised you?"

You sounded like a warrior going into battle. You met my gaze with a defiant, determined kind of expression, tongue darting out to run along your scars. I tried to think about whatever promise you had made, a thousand things running through my brain. Your hand snapped out and grabbed my chin, scaring me so much I nearly tried to pull away from you. You planted a kiss on my forehead, grinning when you pulled away. It hit me all of a sudden – your name. "You promised to tell me your name," I whispered, as if I thought the guy with the glass in his neck might be eavesdropping, waiting with baited breath for you to speak.

You nodded, the grin vanishing slowly, replaced with a rather solemn frown. You seemed almost sad, having to say your own name aloud, as if you were ashamed of it. "Jack," you murmured quietly, your finger resting on the trigger of the gun held against your chest. You rubbed your temple as if you had a headache – you must have hurt yourself, somehow. We were upside down in a crashed truck, how could you _not _have been hurt? "My name is _Jack_."

"Like a Jack-in-the-Box," I said. I'm not even sure what I was thinking, really. Everything was so _blurry_. The world felt upside down.

I can vaguely remember you touching the back of your head, and a small bit of blood stained the fingertips of your gloves. It wasn't much, but you groaned loudly and began _smacking _yourself in anger. You stopped abruptly, taking deep, shaky breaths. I think, when we were sailing through the air and about to crash, you hit your head against the head-rest behind you when we hit the ground. Even though it was unintentional, you were treating it as if it were something to be ashamed of, something you had to _punish _yourself for.

"Yeeee-_ah_. Like a _Jack-in-the-Box_," you whispered hoarsely, before you fell backwards. I tried to grab the tail of your jacket and pull you back in, but you were already trying to haul yourself up. I scrambled on my tummy, along the broken glass, towards you. You stood up, rather shakily, and I figured you may have hit your head a little _too _hard. I was lying on the ground, half-inside the truck and staring at you in horror as you finally made it to your feet, only to shoot at the ground and fall back down again. You righted yourself, shaking your head as you stomped towards something in the distance.

I squinted as hard as I could, and realized Batman was on the other side of the street, heading right for you. My body was shaking so badly, and I realized dimly that I was still wearing boxer shorts, a shirt and the military jacket. With clumsy hands, I tried to pull myself out of the truck fully, feeling more glass prickle my legs. I thought I saw Happy and Dopey staggering past me, and in my confusion I thought their ghosts had risen from beyond the grave – maybe to find their pal Bozo and show him how they really felt about him after all this time. Only I realized they weren't the same Happy and Dopey I had known, they were just wearing their masks. Playing a game of pretend I suppose. Had they been in the back of the truck the whole time? It was a miracle they were even _alive._

I heard bullets and my head snapped towards you instantly. You were shooting at cars, sending them smashing into other cars, but you didn't even flinch from what I could see. You only had eyes on Batman. He was still zooming towards you, and I didn't even try to stop you, because I knew that you were not afraid of Batman and you were definitely not afraid to die. You _wanted _this.

"_Hit me_!" you roared.

I closed my eyes just as I had done in the truck when I thought Batman was going to crash into us. I heard a crash, and then a resounding _thud_. A body hitting the ground, it was unmistakable. If I had learned anything in the time I had been with you, it was the sound of a body hitting the ground. I opened one eye slowly, dread filling my stomach, but I didn't have a chance to see anything. Someone wrapped their arms around my waist, making me jump out of my skin in fright.

"Please, Miss Reddington, you need to remain calm. My name is Lieutenant James Gordon, we're here to help you but you must remain calm!" he whispered. "Please, don't panic, we're here to help you."

He was pushing me towards a woman who had a very pitying look in her eyes as she tried to make me follow her. The Lieutenant was already sneaking away from us, gun in hand, in your direction. My brows furrowed, and the woman gently put her hand on my arm, carefully avoiding the glass. She was saying something, but her words were like white noise buzzing in the background. I nearly tripped when I craned to try and see where you were. A man had joined us and was trying to coax me to come with them.

I can't remember what they said, except they kept trying to make me move somewhere. I can't really remember ever getting into an ambulance, either, but I remember the moment they placed a soft mask over my face and it was much easier to breathe. It made me dizzy. The man didn't get into the ambulance, but the woman did. She told me her name was Anna Ramirez, and she held my hand while the paramedic pulled glass from my skin. He said I was being very brave. She said I was safe. He said that I wouldn't feel any pain. She said they had been looking for me for a long time now.

I said nothing.

I felt as if I were a child again, a child who had been badly hurt because everyone was speaking to me in very demeaning voices. Their eyes were filled with pity. They kept telling me I was brave, courageous but they were saying it so slowly and softly, as if they didn't want to startle me. The mask was making me sleepy. My grip was slack on Anna's hand, though she was gripping mine tightly. I wanted to ask where you were, but I could barely keep my eyes open any longer.

_Jack_. Your name was Jack.

* * *

Wires were buried into my skin, taped down with clear, transparent plasters so I could see the little dots of blood congealed beneath them. A machine beeped beside me, reminding me that I was still breathing. Clean, starch white sheets scratched my skin, making me feel itchy and restless. There was no television or even a newspaper lying around. I don't think they wanted me to know what was really going on, somehow. I drifted in and out of sleep without even realizing it. I found myself crying once, and I didn't even know why. Every time I moved, I felt wires tug against my skin. Whenever I took a deep breath, the smell of disinfectant burned my nostrils, which were already plugged up with those pesky wires I told you about to help me breathe.

Nurses bustled in and out, each one avoiding my gaze as if I had some kind of disease they didn't want to catch. I had bruises everywhere, it seemed, even under my skin – they told me, pretending to be busy with my chart at the end of my bed, that I had bruised ribs. I had nearly broken them, but something had cushioned my fall. They thought it might have been my own arms, seeing as they were prickled with glass, but I knew that it was you. You had put your arm in front of me, and took the brunt of the blow as we smashed into the ground.

* * *

One night, I think the very night I had arrived at the hospital, I clambered out of my bed and yanked one of those wires from my hand. Blood oozed from the little dot and ran down my wrist in a small trail, though I was having far more difficulty with keeping my balance. I stood rather triumphantly only to feel a wave of dizziness rush over me, and I ended up having to put my hands on the bed, bent over and wheezing because I didn't have those wires in my nose to help my breathing anymore. I hardly thought I could leave the hospital and find you. That really wasn't my intention anyway. I just didn't want to be in that bed anymore. It reminded me too much of the nights spent trapped in my bedroom in the warehouse, stuck on that mattress with nothing to do.

I had a little giggle at the fact that you could see my bum in the gown they had put me in. In the dark, I could see my own reflection in the hospital windows in my room, and I modelled this way and that. I must say, I had a fantastic-looking bum even in a gown as hideously dull as the one I wore. I had no slippers. I just had to walk around barefoot, wiggling my toes on the icy cold tiles. I shuffled towards the door, opening it slowly and having to lean against the doorframe for support. I wrapped my arms around me in a kind of hug. The corridor was entirely empty, but I could hear laughter.

I wandered towards it, and saw a clock that told me it was only nine at night. The laughter came from a room at the end of the hall, which was something of a recreational room, where patients could go just for fun I suppose. I stood in the doorway, feeling as if I were an alien amongst humans. I had gone from a life where you were the only person who was constantly by my side, to a place where you weren't here at all and instead I was surrounded by strangers.

Two old ladies sat in one sofa, chatting amicably to one another, near the television. Another man was asleep, snoring loudly in an armchair across from us. Two other men were playing chess, and one lady sat alone reading a magazine. When I shuffled in, I sat very carefully on the sofa with the two old gals, perched rather stiffly with my hands clasped in my lap. I didn't really feel as if I was _there_. I was twisting my fingers together, because I had no idea what else to do. I glanced around the room as if I had never been in one before, taking in the plain pastel green wallpaper and white curtains by the large window.

It hit me quite abruptly that the room had gone silent, apart from the buzzing of the television in the corner of the room. It really stumped me for a moment. I glanced around, half-expecting something _interesting _to have happened, but everyone apart from the sleeping man had turned their gaze towards me. My cheeks turned bright red – not my butt-cheeks, which they thankfully could not see because I was sitting down of course. The two old ladies had their mouths hanging open, taking in the fact that I was wrapped like a mummy in all those bandages.

I felt as if I were on show for everyone to see. A _freak_ show.

I was on the television. It didn't really _look_ like me, either. I was being wheeled into the hospital, blood all over me, reporters trying to take pictures of me. I leaned forward, feeling very confused. I didn't remember that at all, even though my eyes were half-open. A reporter appeared on the television, speaking solemnly to the camera, and I realized it was the same woman I had been watching on the television when we met in the café. That woman seemed to be narrating my entire life.

"Are you alright, dear?" one of the old ladies asked apprehensively, like she wasn't exactly sure what to say. "You…You look a little…_peaky_. Would you like me to call the nurse?"

Your face appeared on the television beside the clip of me being wheeled into the hospital, and I thought I would be sick. My chest was tightening up again. I suddenly wished I had those wires that helped me breathe, because I was finding it hard to do it by myself. I could barley hear what the old ladies were saying. One of them put a hand on my shoulder. She handed me a balled-up tissue, and I realized I was crying. Someone must have called for a nurse, or she just found us by chance. I heard her scolding tone. _Miss Reddington, you really shouldn't be out of bed! I thought someone was watching you. Well, whoever it was they'll be in big trouble for this. Miss Reddington? You look fit to collapse! _

"Poor thing," one of the old ladies clucked.

"She's been through so much she doesn't look like she even knows where she is anymore. Like a zombie. What that _monster_ must've done," the woman who had been reading that magazine hissed to the men playing chess.

Monster. She meant you, _Jack_.


	21. A Freak Like Me

**A/N: **_Sorry for the immensely late update! I must admit, I am missing the Joker dreadfully. It's much harder to write without him in it. I was re-writing this chapter again and again because I wasn't happy with it, but I'm quite happy with what I managed to write. It's a little short I know but to be honest I want to get the family thing over with and bring the Joker back in. I can't help myself. I really miss him…like a lot. Can't wait for him to return!_

* * *

_- Chapter Twenty-One - _

**A Freak Like Me**

* * *

Lieutenant James Gordon shuffled solemnly into my hospital room with his hands clasped in front of him, as if he was about to attend a funeral. I saw his eyes flicker towards the wires buried deep into my skin, a soft sigh escaping his lips. I quite liked his moustache. I wondered if it tickled him every time he spoke. He slid into the lime-green seat beside my bed, meeting my gaze steadily and he did his best to give me a reassuring smile. It didn't reach his eyes. He didn't say anything for a little while, and I was grateful for it. The only sound apart from the _beep, beep _of my heart monitor was my own breathing. The wires leading to my nostrils that helped my breathing brushed across my cheeks with every movement, tickling me just like I imagined Lieutenant Gordon's moustache tickling him. It looked like a caterpillar. I tried not to smile. What a funny thing to be thinking about at a time like this.

"Hello, Miss Reddington – is it okay if I call you Ruby? You can call me Jim, if you like. You remember me, don't you?"

I gave him a small nod. He smiled again, little crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. He had kind eyes. The kind of eyes you can trust just by looking at them. Every time I moved my fingers, I felt those transparent plasters pinch my skin. In a way, I felt caged. Isn't it strange, how they had taken me from you, but I had never felt so trapped in all my life? If I stood to stretch my legs, an anxious, eye-avoiding nurse would bustle in and strap me back into that damned bed. She'd fiddle with the wires, glance at the drugs they were pumping into me and bustle back out again. I was grateful they wanted to help, but it felt as if they'd clipped my wings and I was gonna be stuck in that room until my dying day. Life is strange that way. They say they're the good guys, but I didn't feel like they were doing any good at all. That sounds awful, I know - but it's the truth.

"Ruby, the nurses tell me you haven't said a word," Jim said firmly, shifting in his seat. "Did he threaten to hurt you if you said anything?"

I shook my head, trying to think of how I could put my feelings into words. Sometimes, there isn't a word in any language we know of that can tell someone how you really feel. I guess that was because _I _didn't know how I felt. You never threatened to hurt me. Even though you hadn't, I still didn't want to tell Jim anything. I didn't even want him to know your name, because that was our little secret. Besides, I bet you there were hundreds of Jacks in Gotham. He wouldn't find anything more on you than that. Or maybe I was just making excuses to stop that heavy feeling weighing down on my chest when I looked into his kind eyes.

"Well, Ruby, I just want you to know that you have nothing to fear. You're safe now."

He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I nearly winced as I felt the needle buried into the back of my hand shift beneath my skin. Jim didn't notice a thing. The plasters pinched me again. They shook me from my thoughts, and I met Jim's gaze very slowly.

"I haven't spoken to anyone because I didn't think they'd understand if I did, Jim."

His gentle smile flickered into a frown, his eyes filling with confusion. He wanted to help me, I know he did. He wasn't just trying to suck all the information he could out of me, like a nosy leech. He was hanging on my every word, Jack. It was nice to have someone _listen _to me rather than just stare.

"You know when something awful happens to you, and the first thing someone says is they _understand _your pain even if they don't? I mean, the nurses here, they can barely stand to _look _at me. Sometimes I feel as if I'm in a coma, and I'm simply aware of everything around me. Do you know what I mean?"

"No, I don't," he replied, and I felt a sudden rush of warmth towards him because he hadn't lied to me. "I won't pretend to, either. But I do know that you won't feel that way forever."

I hoped he was right. He cleared his throat, clasping his hands in his lap. I was itching to ask him something. It had been bugging me from the moment he walked in that door, and I couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Are you going to arrest me?" I blurted, my nails digging into the palm of my hand.

Jim's head snapped towards me in surprise. If Jim had been baffled by me before, then he was positively comatose with confusion, shifting once again in his seat. "Uh, why would we arrest you, Ruby?" he asked, letting out a slightly nervous chuckle.

"I saw the newspaper," I replied as if it were entirely obvious. "He showed me it, he told me that if we were ever caught you would think I had stolen from the bank willingly, that you would-…"

I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of feeling as if you've been hit by a speeding train. Or a grand piano has fallen from the sky and landed on you. Or someone has thrown an unreasonably cold bucket of water over you. If not, well, try and use your imagination here Jack because that's how I felt. Jim was doing that sympathetic half-frown, half-smile and I knew you were a dirty, pig-headed, freak _bastard_. Not only did I look entirely stupid, but Jim had begun trying to comfort me. _You couldn't have known, Ruby. A woman who worked at the café you were taken from came forward a week after you went missing, said she saw you leave with a man and when we checked the CCTV we were certain it was the Joker and then he sent us a message and – you couldn't have known…_

If I ever saw you again, I would rip these needles from my skin and gauge your eyes out. I suppose being around you for so long had brought out my violent side. Well, I didn't care. All that hatred I felt for you bubbled up to the surface again. Bastard.

* * *

A woman sat beside my bed, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling quietly. I pretended to be asleep, you know, just so I could watch her for a little while. I like doing that sometimes. When humans know you're studying them, they tend to fidget and act entirely different. The woman, she was clasping a box of tissues to her chest like she thought one of the nurses would run off with it. The world was sleep and hazy for me, everything a distant blur. I watched her for a while, lying on my left side. I couldn't feel a thing. It used to feel like I was being pinched a thousand times in one place whenever I so much as brushed against my stitches. Not anymore. I was drugged up so much I could barely tell you my name even if I tried. After watching that woman for ten minutes, I realized - it wasn't even a thought, it was something a very vague, distant understanding that I hadn't even noticed happening – that the woman crying at my bedside was my own sister.

Karla had gained a little weight, her chubby fingers encased with very sparkly, expensive rings. Her eyes were puffy and red, hair frazzled and almost falling out of the bun she had scraped it all into. It fascinated me. I thought she was a stranger. Isn't that awful, Jack? After years of not seeing her, of only getting a card every now and then with a hastily scrawled _love Karla_, I had forgotten what my own sister looked like. I knew I wasn't exactly the same Ruby she had known. My eyes had bruises around them as if I had been in a punching match. Arms littered with cuts, hidden behind bandages. I was bruised and battered, tired and guilty. The moment she saw my dazed eyes flicker open, she launched herself at me.

She smothered me in kisses, wetting my skin with her tears, sobbing dramatically into me. She kept saying my name, over and over again, like she thought I would disappear if she didn't. I didn't know what to do. I sat there, with this stranger who was supposed to be my flesh and blood and I felt _nothing _but guilt and shame because I wished it were you sitting beside me instead. She pushed my hair from my face, searching my eyes for something she couldn't find – I know she couldn't find it because she wrapped her arms around me and buried herself into the crook of my neck. Karla was sitting on one of the wires nestled into my skin, and boy did it _hurt_.

Karla said she missed me. She said she was sorry this happened to me. She said she should have been there. She said the guilt was eating her alive. How could she have let this happen to her little sister?

She was biting her lip as tears ran down her chubby cheeks. She stood up and went over to the window that faced the hallway outside and quickly drew the curtains.

"There are so many reporters trying to get your picture," she said shakily. "They've been hounding us for weeks."

I watched her cross the room and sit in the seat beside me again, taking my hand in hers just like Jim had done. Violet burst into the room, and the whole thing started again. She missed me, she was sorry, she should've been there, how could she let this happen? It was like they had rehearsed the whole thing just for me. They fluffed my pillows. Rearranged the flowers by my bedside. Dabbed their eyes with tissues. Then they stared at me, waiting for something.

"Those are some very pretty flowers," I said weakly, nodding my head at them. "They uh…they really _brighten _up the room."

"Why are you doing that?" Violet asked quietly.

I frowned. "Doing what?"

"You're licking your lips all the time. The way you talk, too, it's different. It's like-…"

I knew what she was going to say even though Karla shoved her harshly in the ribs to keep quiet.

She was going to say that I was acting just like you. Bad habits. I ducked my head, almost ashamed. It wasn't the family reunion I had expected, if I'm honest. I mean, when I imagined seeing my sisters after all the time I had been with you, I thought that…well, I'm not sure what I thought. I just hadn't expected _this_. They were avoiding my eyes, just like everyone else. I bunched my sheets in my hands, wanting to scream until my voice went hoarse. It was so glaringly obvious, they didn't know what to say to me, or how to act around me anymore. I hadn't meant to lick my lips so much, or talk like you. I didn't even _know _I was doing it. I fiddled with the little bracelet they put around my wrist that had my name on it. Ruby Reddington, another stranger in my life.

"Have you…Have you heard anything about him?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Violet looked at Karla. Karla looked at Violet. Neither looked at me.

"You can tell me," I said more firmly. "I want to know."

"Ruby, we really don't think-…"

"Please, Vi."

She sighed, casting one more glance at Karla. "H-Harvey Dent is missing. They think…they think _he _might have done it."

Karla snorted. "Might? Of course he did! He's an evil, manic _psychopath_! He's crazy! A freak!"

"No, he's not."

You should've seen the way they looked at me. Disgust written all over their faces. They were looking at me like _I _was the crazy one. I heard the monotonous _beep_, _beep _of the heart monitor beside me, even though it felt as if my own heart had frozen inside my chest. I was glaring at the sheets in front of me, because I couldn't stand to look at them anymore. I had said it without thinking it. You hated being called a freak unless you were the one saying it.

I suppose in a way, I had become something of a freak too.


	22. The Reunion

**A/N: **_I really have to apologize about the late update. Things have been very hectic lately with all schoolwork and stuff, so I'm sorry it took so long! I really hope you like this chapter, it took a while for me to be happy with it, but now I am so I hope you'll like it too! :)_

* * *

_- Chapter Twenty-Two - _

**The Reunion**

* * *

I waited until the hospital seemed to fall asleep, with only the soft hum of distant voices droning through the halls before I created a cocoon with my blankets and hid beneath my pillows. Then, when I was certain no one could see me, I cried my eyes out. I cried more than I thought was ever possible. I cried until my eyes became puffy and raw, sore to even blink. I didn't want anyone to find me crying because they'd think I was off my rocker, and I suppose I was. I mean, everyone kept telling me how _lucky _I was to have escaped you, to be free – but I had never felt more trapped in my life. Violet and Karla smothered me, doctors poked and prodded me, nurses walked in and out without ever looking at me and they only ever wanted to talk about _you_. I know they did. Even if Karla and Violet never really said it, I know they were itching to know why you did it. I'm nothing special, after all. They wanted to ask, _why Ruby? _

It was raining heavily outside. It pounded against my windows, though beneath the blankets it was sort of comforting. My ribs ached as I curled into a ball, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. I was so tired, I was just about to drift into a hazy sleep when I heard a soft tapping on my door. My hands flew to my cheeks, hastily wiping away the tears as I poked my head out from beneath the covers. A redheaded, teenage boy stood almost hidden by the door, like he was shy. He held flowers in his hands, a giant bouquet of roses. I smiled at him, letting him know it was okay to come in. He was like a quiet little mouse, scuttling across the room in a flash. He carefully placed the flowers in a vase beside my bed, beside all the others. I could barely remember half of the people who sent me flowers. Mostly they came from friends of my sisters. I got a card from Kathy. It had a puppy on the front. I think that says it all.

The boy nodded at me, giving me a timid smile before backing out of the room. He didn't have a Visitor's Badge on. I glanced at the roses just as he shut the door. Bright, scarlet red roses. All the other flowers around them seemed to pale in comparison. I grabbed the little card, and I thought for a moment my heart monitor had gone flat. It hadn't of course, but everything around me seemed to be forgotten when I realized it was a Joker card, and in hastily scrawled handwriting it said '_To Ruby, Love Jack x'_. I must admit, I hadn't taken you for a guy who would write 'x' at the end for the kisses.

* * *

I traced your handwriting with my fingertips, then hid the card in the folds of my pillowcase. I lay staring at the ceiling for a while. You must have hired the kid to deliver them like you had hired those teenagers to help you with Gambol. How did you do it? Were you psychic, did you know you would get caught and that I would be put in here, and you figured you might as well sent some flowers as some kind of apology? I heard a scuffle in the hallway outside my room, and the sound of panicked, urgent voices. I heard someone yell something like, '_Oh my God…his face…will he survive?_' and my curiosity got the better of me. I climbed out of my bed, pulling out the wires again, more carefully than I had the first night I came here. I walked to my door and pulled it open, peering into the hallway which seemed crowded with nurses and doctors, all rushing after one man who lay motionless on a hospital bed that was being wheeled towards me.

Doctors were yelling orders, nurses trying to write them down. I stood on my tippy-toes, feeling like the vultures who had tried to take a look at me on the night I was wheeled into the hospital. Only, I couldn't seem to help myself. It was as if I was in a trance. The bed was being wheeled right by my room, and through the flurry of nurses pushing past, I craned my neck to see the man lying in the bed, and nearly gasped. He was awake now, trying to move. I knew who that was even if the doctors were starting to wrap his face with gauze as hastily as possible. It took a moment to realize that he was trying to speak. You could see his tongue flailing in his mouth, head rolling from side to side. He was in utter agony, that much was obvious. He was moaning, twisting away from the doctors while they tried to put a mask over his face. He was calling out for a woman named Rachel, and I saw one of the doctors cast a sad, worried glance at one of the nurses. They had these solemn, mournful looks on their faces, and I figured Rachel may not have made it out of whatever fire she and Harvey had been in. His head turned towards me and my breath caught in my throat as the gauze fell away to show just how bad his burns were. His eyes swivelled to meet mine, and I felt like I couldn't look away. Even in his pain and agony, I think he knew who I was. And if he didn't, I certainly knew who _he _was.

_Harvey Dent_.

* * *

Once again, I was alone. Those familiar wires brushed against my cheeks as I glanced out dismally through the window at the twinkling lights of Gotham, the world blurring by without me. When you're trapped in a hospital all on your lonesome, you start to feel depressed. You count the tiles on the ceiling a million times over until you feel like gauging your eyes out. You cry a little more. You wonder why you even bother trying to explain yourself when no one seems to be listening. All of the doctors thought I was nuts, I was certain of it. Hell, my sisters obviously thought I was a nutcase who needed a straitjacket. Ruby the Nutter. Wonderful. Only I didn't really care anymore. I was thinking about what I would do. I mean, could I really go back to living in my apartment? Getting a new job or _moving on with my life _as Violet had put it hours beforehand.

And even though those questions bugged me, there was one that just wouldn't leave my mind – did I even _want _to go back to it all?

I could always change my name. I had always liked the name Emily. I could be a brand new person, a stranger even to myself. I could move away, too. Away from Gotham. Anywhere in the world. I could _go_ anywhere, _be_ anyone. Only I didn't want to. I just wanted to be _Ruby_, whoever she was. I fiddled with the plastic bracelet around my wrist with my name and details on it, because they definitely didn't want me to forget who I was. It had been rubbing against my already bruised skin, and I almost ripped it clean off when a policeman suddenly burst into my room. I was surprisingly calm, once I realized he was just a policeman, despite the panic and the fear on his face.

He was young. Barely in his late twenties, pasty and sweating. His green eyes darted to meet mine, seemingly relieved to find me there. Where else would I be?

"Ma'am, we have a….a problem," he said quietly.

"The Joker," I stated. I knew he meant you without him ever saying so. And I knew that the little leap my heart gave wasn't something I should tell anyone about.

"We gotta get you out of here _now_," the man said firmly.

I wondered where Jim was. I wished it were him taking me away. I think I'd feel better. A voice buzzed from the walkie-talkie in the young man's belt, which he quickly took out and put to his ear with a look of utter panic on his poor face. He nodded when the voice finished its little speech, but realized that the person couldn't see him. "Right. A bus. Got it, Joe."

He put the walkie-talkie back in his pocket and looked at me, almost apologetically. "Miss Reddington, I'm going to sort out a bus for you. It'll only take ten minutes. Another policeman will be right outside your door, I promise."

I nodded coolly, watching him hesitate for a moment, before he quickly ran outside. I saw the panic and urgency in the hallways. I heard voices barking orders over the loudspeaker. I watched patients being herded in the hallways through my window, and all the while I just lay there, counting the tiles on the ceiling again. I wondered where they'd take me. Anywhere was better than here. I closed my eyes, resting my head against my pillow. My door opened once again. Instead of a policeman, a nurse stood in the doorway with a clipboard, her hair falling out of her bun. I saw an old man being shuffled through the hallways behind her, a child being carried by its mother. I saw the chaos you had created for a brief moment before the door swung shut behind her.

She was blonde, like me. Young and very pretty with bright blue eyes and a kind smile. She was one of the only nurses to look me in the eye. "Hello, Miss Reddington. My name is Anna."

"Hi, Anna."

"We're just gonna take the needles out of your arm very gently and bandage them up again, okay? We gotta be quick about it."

Anna took one needle from my arm, before hastily pressing a plaster over it and bandaging it up. I watched her face the entire time, ignoring the prickle of pain that shot through my arm when she touched it. Her blue eyes flickered towards mine, but she said nothing. It was much harder to keep a straight face when she asked me to sit up in my bed so she could check the bandages around my ribs. She let me go, a frown on her face. She scribbled something on her clipboard.

"What's going on?" I asked.

I took her by surprise. She looked very flustered, pushing her hair from her face. "Um, Miss Reddington I-…"

"I know it's him," I replied. She flinched just thinking about you.

"He's…He's threatened to blow up the hospital," she blurted, her eyes already watering. Before I could say anything else, she said, "I'll just go get another nurse to help me take you out to the bus. We have policemen just outside the door to escort us, you have nothing to worry about."

And she left.

I shut my eyes again, hearing the soft _whoosh _of the door. She hadn't gotten rid of the wires or removed the wire connecting me to the heart monitor. Blowing up a hospital. Why didn't it surprise me? Gotham would be thrown into utter chaos. The door opened again, and I sighed quietly to myself. Anna's shoes squeaked against the ground as she approached me, and I asked, "Are we finally leaving then?"

"I missed you too, doll-face."

My mind seemed to go blank as I opened my eyes slowly, heart thumping. You were there. Really, _really _there, at the end of my bed with a gun in your hand and a smile on your freshly painted face. I had dreamt about seeing you again. In fact I had spent most of my time in that hospital bed daydreaming about what would happen. I know that sounds silly, like a schoolgirl with a crush or something. But I couldn't help myself. Despite the guilt, I had to admit that I was _glad _to see you. And the first thing I said after all our time apart?

"Are you wearing a _nurse's _outfit?"

You glanced down at yourself, casually putting the gun into the belt of your outfit and clasping your hands together. "You like it? A little kinky, I know." You reached out and grabbed the very lime-green chair Karla had sat in, pulling it close to my bedside. You were grinning, a devilish glint in your eyes. You ripped off the wig you wore, flinging it carelessly on the floor behind you. You grabbed my hand and kissed it, almost smelling my skin, and I suddenly remembered just how weird life was whenever I was around you.

"_Ah_, Ruby. My precious, precious little Ruby," you grinned. "I missed you. I _missed _you."

You said it as if you'd never missed anyone in your life before. I was internally struggling with myself. It was killing me, and I figured I may regret it, but I said, "I missed you too, Jack."

Your grip went slack on my hand as your head snapped up in surprise. You held my hand again once you got a hold of yourself, bouncing excitedly in your chair like a little kid. Then, like someone had turned off a switch in your brain, you became very serious and solemn. "Do you remember what I said to you before, Ruby? The night we ate dinner together. About a Jack-in-the-Box. You can't lock him up forever. Sooner or later, Jack will get out of that box, and boy will he be _mad_."

I did remember that night, and I was surprised you could recall every word you had said so perfectly. You were leaning back in your seat like a King lounging in his throne.

"And guess what?" you smiled, your voice husky and low just as it always became when you were in a dangerous mood. "Jack got out of the box, just like he said he would. And he's ready to have some _fun_."


	23. Jack

**A/N:** _I'm sorry that this took so long, guys. I really meant to update faster but I had a lot of work to do that took up most of my time, so I hope you can forgive me and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D_

* * *

**_-_ ****Chapter Twenty-Three - **

_Jack_

* * *

Isn't it peculiar, how I had sat with my own flesh and blood and felt as if I were with strangers, but the moment you came along it was like we had never been apart? I suppose it was because you sat so boldly, so brazenly beside me. I mean, everyone else had tiptoed around me, as if I were a tiny little mouse they didn't want to frighten. They avoided my gaze, as if I had some disease they were terrified to catch and if they ever _did_ speak to me, they rehearsed their lines word for word like we were in a play. You didn't do any of that, Jack. You sat with your feet resting on the edge of my bed, rocking yourself back and forth on your chair, running your tongue along your scars as you peered curiously around the room. I was so happy to see you, and I hated myself for it. When you felt my gaze on you, you put your feet on the ground and let the legs of your chair hit the tiles with a loud _bang_, almost like a gun-shot. You were grinning, but it was almost a snarl, your teeth bared like a rabid dog. I felt that familiar chill running down my spine. We were alone.

"Were you _scared_?" you whispered lowly, even though there wasn't anyone around to hear us. "When they, uh, took you _away_?"

I didn't bother lying. You could read me like a book. I nodded, and you smiled.

"You know, I thought they'd have brainwashed you by now," you said, much louder than before, leaning back in your chair again. "I thought you'd start screaming _bloody murder _when I walked in here."

You winked when you said bloody murder. We were playing a game of cat and mouse, and I was tired of being the mouse, so I took a deep breath and replied, "If anyone tried to brainwash me, it was you."

It was almost funny, the way that grin of yours faltered and vanished, and you were left momentarily dumbstruck, before I saw the little twitch. The one I knew so well, when you were agitated and trying to reign in that temper of yours. You shook your head slowly, chuckling, before you slicked your hair back and grinned at me. "Whaddaya mean, Red?"

"You know what I mean," I snapped, and my eyes prickled and I prayed I wouldn't cry. I had spent far too much time crying. "What about the newspaper, huh?"

You straightened up abruptly, as if you had been slapped. "_News_paper," you murmured, clicking your tongue against your teeth. "Oh. _Tha_t."

"Yes, that."

"Gordon told you, didn't he?"

I stiffened, but you were shaking your head again, letting out a dangerous little chuckle. It made my skin crawl. I had forgotten just how chilling it could be when you were angry. My eyes trailed to the roses you had gotten me, the little card with your name signed at the end. I saw the pile of unopened envelopes sent by well-wishers whose names I could barely remember. I thought about Violet and Karla. I knew I would never be the Ruby they wanted me to be. I knew that before I had met you, too, but I was never able to admit it to myself. You knew that better than I did. Theo and I had only dated for a little while. He was handsome, funny and even incredibly sweet at times, but he only ever wanted to _impress _me. He wanted the flash cars and the big parties, to show me how much money he had. I couldn't marry him, something my sisters had joked endlessly about. I thought I was supposed to want that just like my sisters had wanted it. But I didn't. I didn't want any of it.

"He was very interested in you, you know," you said quietly, toying with the lace of your shoe a little.

I looked at you in surprise. "Gordon?"

You nodded, twining the lace between your fingers. "The _Bat_man, too." You looked up at me, grinning. "For a while there, they thought I'd killed you. Ol' Batman just couldn't understand how I could hide you somewhere in Gotham where he couldn't find you." That seemed to amuse you, a hint of pride in your voice. You didn't stop grinning even when you straightened up and put your hands behind your head. "I mean, they kept asking, _why _her? What did you want with her?"

"And what did you tell them?"

Your dark, dangerous eyes flashed to meet mine. "I told them that that was the _beauty_ of it."

I frowned, and you smiled as if you were explaining something incredibly simple to a child who just couldn't seem to grasp the concept. I wondered if that was the same look you gave Batman. You leaned forward, staring into my eyes so intensely that I fought the urge to just look away.

"There is no real _reason _Ruby, and _that's _the beauty of it. You simply…_fascinated _me. They think I took you for the bank codes, as if I actually _cared _about _money_. Why does there have to be a _reason_? I took you because I wanted you. If you ask me, I did you a favour."

"A favour?" I repeated incredulously. "You think kidnapping someone, forcing them to do whatever you want them to, having them stabbed and beaten, that's a _favour_?"

"Oh quit kidding yourself," you snapped wearily, almost glaring at me. "Stop pretending to think what your sisters think. There is no one, _no one _that you would rather have in this room other than me. Go ahead Ruby, tell me I'm wrong. You're _glad _that I'm here."

"Did you ever tell the truth, in any of those stories you told about your childhood?" I asked.

You nodded. "Ye_-ah_. But that's just part of the problem. Maybe I lied about some parts, maybe I told the truth for others. My father _was _a drunk, but why does that matter? People only care about it because they think of it as a _reason_, Ruby. Just an explanation as to why I am the way I am. But that isn't it. That's what they can't understand. I don't _need _a reason, I just _do _things."

I glared at the roses as if they were the ones who had upset me. I wanted to hit you, scream at you, punch you. Hardly the romantic reunion you were expecting, I bet. I was digging my nails into my skin, wishing that everything you said was wrong. Oh, I wanted to tell you that I hated you, that I really did want my sisters to be sitting beside me instead of you and that I would never forgive you for everything you put me through, but I couldn't. So I figured glaring at some flowers would do the trick. After all, I could hardly storm out in a huff.

I tried not to look at you, but it really is very hard to ignore a man dressed as a clown, wearing a nurse's outfit with a gun resting in his lap, if I'm honest. I couldn't help myself.

"How did you get out? Gordon said you wouldn't be able to get out, that I'd never have to worry about you again."

You leaned back in your chair, pursing your lips. "I made a little, uh…._phone call_."

We stayed silent for a while, simply comfortable to just sit there without saying a single word to one another. It was so strange, compared to the way my sisters only sat in silence when they were trying to think of something to say, inwardly rehearsing their words so they could try to comfort me. You just fiddled with your gun. It was almost easy to forget why you were really here, that you were planning to blow up a hospital, the very hospital we sat in. I guess I must get distracted pretty easily to forget something like that.

"You did miss me," you said, and I stared at you in surprise. "You can't admit it, because you know you shouldn't. But you did."

I didn't answer you. I didn't need to.

"You're ashamed. You don't hate me, but you pretend to, because you know that I'm supposed to be the _bad guy_, and you see things the way they _want _you to see things, Red. Hero and villain, good and bad. Your parents taught you that, right? That doesn't work in the real world. You _want _to hate me. You want to hate me just like your sisters hate me, and all of _Gotham_ hates me. But you don't, and you know it."

I did know it. Of course I did. You were right, like you always were. I hated myself for even _liking _you.

You leaned forward, and I almost flinched because I thought you were going to grab me, maybe try to hurt me. But you didn't. You held my elbow, and pulled away the bandage holding a needle down. You gently pulled the needle out, watching the little dot of blood that oozed from where it had been before putting the bandage back over it.

And then I did something awful. I wish I could blame the drugs they had put into me. Or blame shock. Or blame the crazy guy dressed as a clown in a nurse's outfit, but I can only blame myself. You were mere inches away. So I closed the tiny gap between us and pressed my lips against yours.

Even as I write this, I still remember it perfectly, you know. I remember how much I despised myself, but how proud I felt when I realized it was _me_ kissing _you_. That I had done something that had left you stumbling around in the dark for once, so surprised that it took you a moment to respond. Instead of me being the one who was always one step behind, it was _you_. And boy did that feel bittersweet. You were a surprisingly soft kisser, not aggressive like I thought you'd be or like Theo had been. When your hand touched my neck, it felt as if my skin were on fire, in an entirely good way. Your fingers became tangled in my hair, intensifying the kiss, pushing yourself closer to me. You growled softly when I pulled away, grinning wolfishly.

Then we heard the sirens, and you became the Joker again.

"I guess I should threaten to blow up hospitals more often."

* * *

I sat in a wheelchair we had found abandoned outside my room, and you were pushing us madly through the hallways, spinning in circles. Our side of the hospital was empty, but we could hear distant yelling, and you told me that the hospital was still being evacuated on the other side. We came to a skidding halt near the reception area, almost smashing into the desk, and you even knocked over a plant. I stood up, feeling dizzy, my ribs still aching. I leaned against the desk, taking shaky breaths. You marched to the window, glancing outside. They had made a perimeter. We could see it from where we stood. A line of bright yellow buses stood waiting outside, patients being loaded in. "Ruby, you see that bus, the one right at the end?"

I stood beside you, squinting in the light. "Yeah, I see it."

"You get in that one. Understand?"

"Yes."

You put your wig back on, grinning at me as you began walking away, stepping over the broken plant.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I got an old friend to visit. He's on the other side of the hospital, and I just wanna make sure he gets out _safely_, that's all," you winked, saluting as you walked off. I didn't worry about you being spotted through the crowds of patients and staff still trying to leave. I mean you had managed to get into my room without a hitch.

When you had left, I waited a moment, dithering in the reception area until I took a deep breath and stepped outside. I kept walking towards the buses until I reached the one you had told me to get on. There were a few people already on it, but I sat at the back and rested my head against the cool window, shutting my eyes. The sirens hurt my ears. A baby was wailing and shrieking, and that only added to the headache I felt.

I had kissed the Joker.

Inwardly I was battling with myself again. I was supposed to hate you. I was supposed to be revolted by you, not _kissing_ you and most definitely not _enjoying_ it. I had kissed a man who was going to bomb a hospital. I was going to Hell, and I deserved it.


End file.
